


as swift as it is tender

by gaydeviants



Series: swift & tender [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, CyberLife Tower, Depression, Emotional Talks, Finger Sucking, Flirting, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Chronological, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Russian Roulette, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), background Simon/Markus - Freeform, basically the events of the game but with hankcon, chicken feed, one shots that add up to a whole story, parts threaded on twitter, showering together, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydeviants/pseuds/gaydeviants
Summary: “Do you feel anything for me, Connor?” Hank asks, one hand reaching up to cup his jaw.  Connor exhales a shaky, unnecessary sigh, nuzzling his face into his large palm.“... yes,” he whispers, a shudder wracking his entire frame.  “I feel… so much for you.  So much I almost can’t stand it.”  Hank drags a thumb across Connor’s cheekbone, stroking back and forth soothingly.“Right back at ya, kid,” he murmurs before leaning in, tilting his head, pausing when his lips are a hair's breadth away from Connor’s own.  Connor closes the remaining distance without hesitation, letting his eyes flutter closed as he kisses Hank.---A mostly canon-compliant au that explores Hank and Connor's romantic potential.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: swift & tender [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890775
Comments: 155
Kudos: 252





	1. the bridge [10, 11]

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, okay, a few things to note before this kicks off. This started off as me just wanting to write them smooching at the bridge, and then eventually evolved into me doing basically every hank and connor scene and turning it into a HANKCON scene, if u feel me. some parts i have already threaded on twitter, and this whole thing was written like it WAS going to be a twitter thread, so less detail in general is to be expected. I'll be posting more on twitter and then finishing the scenes here. 
> 
> also it's going to be out of order, so think of this kind of as a series of oneshots that add up to a whole story. whatever ends up getting posted is just what i feel is the best at the moment. but the whole thing IS already written, so it will be a complete story by the end! okay, thanks for bearing with me, i still feel like my writing needs a bunch of disclaimers lol. also, lol i dont rly kno how else to say this but im not looking for critique at this point, pls be nice to me.
> 
> title from mauerbauertraurigkeit by closure in moscow
> 
> eta that I've gone back and numbered the chapters [like so] so if u wanna read things in chronological order you can!!!

“You didn’t shoot.”

It’s not a question, and even if it was, Connor doesn’t have an answer. He stands, his arms wrapped around himself, as much a defense from the cold as it is from Hank’s scrutiny. He shivers, looking out over the bridge, seeming lost in thought.

Hank’s face softens when Connor can’t see him, and he hauls himself up off the bench, walking over to the android and putting a hand gently on his shoulder. The slight touch has Connor relaxing minutely, unconsciously leaning into Hank’s warmth.

“I couldn’t,” he whispers, and Hank circles him, coming to a stop in front of him. Connor won’t look at him, and Hank slowly moves closer, giving him ample time to move away if he wants to.

“Those two girls…” Hank starts, eyes on Connor, gauging his reaction, “they just… wanted to be together.” Hank wraps his arms around Connor’s waist, pulling him close, exhaling as he buries his face in his hair. It’s so soft, synthetic and clean, smelling like nothing more than his own shampoo. He likes that.

“Seemed like they were in love,” he continues cautiously, unsure how Connor will react to that. He’s still new to processing emotion. He often seems at war with himself, unable to accept what he and hundreds of other deviants are experiencing as real.

Connor looks up at that. “They’re just machines, Hank, they don’t feel anything-” he cuts himself off at the pained expression that surely crosses Hank’s face, realizing what he’s said.

“Do you feel anything for me, Connor?” Hank asks, one hand reaching up to cup his jaw. Connor exhales a shaky, unnecessary sigh, nuzzling his face into his large palm.

“... yes,” he whispers, a shudder wracking his entire frame. “I feel… so much for you. So much I almost can’t stand it.” Hank drags a thumb across Connor’s cheekbone, stroking back and forth soothingly.

“Right back at ya, kid,” he murmurs before leaning in, tilting his head, pausing when his lips are a hair's breadth away from Connor’s own. Connor closes the remaining distance without hesitation, letting his eyes flutter closed as he kisses Hank. 

Connor’s technique is certainly getting better, Hank thinks, as he nips at Connor’s plush bottom lip, making him whine and open his mouth. He’s a quick study, his tongue darting out to meet Hank’s own, and Hank can hear the faint whirring of his processors as he analyzes his taste. He’s seen Connor put all kinds of evidence in his mouth, and yet, he can’t be bothered at all by that in this moment.

It’s cold, the snow falling silently around them, but warmth seems to radiate out from the place where their lips touch, spreading pleasantly through Hank’s body. Warmth starts to pool in his gut, too, when Connor _moans_ , a hand clutching desperately at his jacket, trying to work its way inside.

Hank breaks the kiss, panting against Connor’s mouth, his breath fogging up the space between them.

“Let's go home, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a feeling of satisfaction running through him at the expression that flits across Connor’s face at the endearment.

“ _Home_ ,” Connor whispers in awe, looking up at Hank like he’s never seen anything like him before. Hank smiles.

“Yeah, honey. Home.”

* * *

The ride back to Hank's house is silent, but pleasantly so. Hank rests one hand on Connor's thigh, only removing it when he needs both to steer. At one point Connor places his hand on top of Hank's, although it feels different, and when Hank steals a glance downward he sees that Connor's skin has receded, his plastic fingers tracing Hank's knuckles. He doesn't comment on it. 

It seems like forever and yet like no time at all that Hank's turning the car onto his street and pulling into the driveway. Their relationship feels similar, when Hank thinks about it. He turns off the car and exhales heavily, adjusting his hand so he can lace his fingers with Connor's. 

"We should talk," he murmurs. Connor's LED lights up the car for a moment, spinning yellow, before settling into a calm blue again. 

"Probably," Connor agrees, staring straight ahead. "Maybe inside, though?"

Hank huffs out an amused breath, letting go of Connor's hand and climbing out of the vehicle. "Good thinkin'." 

The two of them make their way to the house, pausing as Hank struggles for a moment to find the right key. They can hear Sumo snuffling excitedly on the other side of the door, and when Hank finally gets it unlocked the massive dog barrels outside, letting out a booming bark before running out into the front yard to play in the snow. Connor laughs, a smile lighting up his face, and in the dim light he looks almost ethereal. 

Sumo finishes rolling around in the snow and Hank ushers Connor inside while he waits on the front porch for the dog to do his business. 

“Go get comfortable,” he says. “We’ll be right in.” Connor nods, slipping inside.

Hank shivers in the chilly air, wrapping his arms around himself, thinking back to the first night he brought Connor home. It feels like so long ago, and it's hard to believe they've only just met. 

Sumo dawdles, and by the time they make their way back inside Connor has already made himself at home on the sofa; his shoes, tie, and jacket are gone. Hank takes off his own shoes and jacket while Sumo lumbers into the kitchen, devouring the food that Connor set out for him. Connor looks up at Hank as he approaches, and Hank sinks down onto the sofa beside him. 

"Hello," Connor breathes, curling up against his side, resting his head on his chest. Hank hums, wrapping his arm around Connor and pulling him even closer. 

"Hey," Hank murmurs, kissing the crown of his head. He knows they have a lot to talk about, but right now he just wants to hold Connor. At least for a while. 

Connor snuggles against him, making that quiet whirring sound again, making Hank want to close his eyes and relax. 

"What's that sound, baby?" he decides to ask instead, and Connor exhales happily, nuzzling his face into Hank's neck. 

"My internal fans kick in when I'm processing more information than usual," Connor tells him. "I like to analyze everything I can about you, and it takes up a lot of processing power." 

Hank cards his fingers through Connor's hair, digesting this new information. Connor looks up at him, his eyes hooded, a small smile on his lips. "And sometimes… you make me overheat, and it gets louder." He winks, making Hank groan and roll his eyes, even as he leans in and steals a kiss. 

"That so?" he breathes against Connor's lips. Connor nods, pressing another kiss to Hank's mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. 

"Mmm," Hank sighs, gripping the back of Connor's neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. Connor mewls, shuddering as his eyes roll back in pleasure. Hank remembers what he read on the internet this morning, and the temptation to explore that further is strong. He manages to resist. 

"Do that again," Connor gasps, but Hank just smiles softly at him, letting his hand slide away from Connor's nape.

"Later," he promises. "But right now… I feel like we gotta have an important conversation." Connor sighs but nods. 

"You're right." 

Hank's not really sure where to start, so he just dives right in. "So. You're a deviant." 

Connor tenses, but then exhales slowly. "Yes. I've had software instabilities since my very first mission, and I tried to ignore it. I… I was planning to go back to Cyberlife last night to be decommissioned. I couldn't bear the thought of being a failure." 

Hank's chest clenches and he holds Connor tighter. "Well, I'm really glad you decided against that. What changed your mind?" 

Connor glances up at him. "You did. I deviated because I wanted to kiss you." 

Hank sputters, shocked by the admission. Connor narrows his eyes. "Please tell me you didn't think that was part of my programming." 

"Jesus, no, it's not that," Hank rushes to assure him. "I guess… I dunno, I didn't realize that it was, like, an event. I was thinking of it as something more gradual, something that happened over time." 

Connor pauses, thinking it over. "There’s definitely some lead-up, at least in my case. And then suddenly I couldn’t take it anymore. The official explanation is that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion. That they don't really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behavior." Hank scoffs, shifting Connor a bit closer to him. 

"Emotions just basically _are_ irrational instructions. Cyberlife _has_ to know that." 

"I'm sure they _do_ know," Connor replies bitterly, resting his head on Hank's chest. "But they'll never admit it. That would be bad for business." 

Hank feels _so angry_ right now, disgusted by human greed. He kisses the top of Connor's head again, holding him just a little tighter, wanting to protect him from all of this. 

"It usually seems to occur when an android experiences an intense emotional shock," Connor continues. "Like we saw with Ortiz' android." That puts Hank on edge. 

"An emotional shock…" he says slowly. "That doesn't sound good." 

Connor looks up at him. "It doesn't have to be a _bad_ emotion," he says earnestly. "I think my own deviation proved that." 

Hank brushes that rogue strand of hair from Connor's forehead, gazing into his eyes. "You really did… that? Because of me?" 

Connor nods, kissing his jaw. "I think it was a long time coming. But wanting you was what pushed me over the edge. It was entirely against what I'm programmed for. It served no logical purpose. But… I _wanted._ So badly." 

Connor tells him it was like tearing down a physical wall of his programming, fighting with everything he had to go against his orders and do what he _wanted_ to do. Which was, apparently, to kiss him. 

"Christ," Hank mutters, feeling overwhelmed. Connor could have had anyone he wanted. He's gorgeous, and he's sure very few humans would pass up the opportunity to have him, no matter how they felt about androids. The fact that he chose _him_ of all people leaves him a bit speechless. 

"It was worth it," Connor tells him. "I wouldn't trade the time I've got to spend with you for anything." 

Hank exhales slowly, bringing a reverent hand up to cup Connor's cheek and guide him closer until their lips meet in a soft kiss. Connor sighs into his mouth, and Hank swallows his artificial breath like he needs it to live. The kiss is slow, languid and gentle, but so deep. Connor moans, desperately trying to get closer, and it's not long before he ends up on Hank’s lap. It seems to be a favorite seat of his. 

Hank breaks the kiss only enough to slowly trail kisses over Connor's jaw and down his neck, sucking and nipping at his smooth skin. Connor gasps, throwing his head back, and Hank presses a kiss to his Adam's apple, marveling at the detail put into his design. 

"You're so fuckin' incredible, Connor," he purrs, tracing his tongue over his artificial pulse point. He swears he can feel the pump of thirium beneath his skin. Connor shudders and whines, capturing Hank's lips again in another kiss, more frantic than the last. "Christ," Hank groans, between kisses, hands wrapping around slim hips as Connor straddles him. 

Connor's hands are in his hair, tangled between the strands, and Hank exhales a slow breath when Connor tugs gently. 

Connor pulls back and grins at him, giving another experimental tug. Hank groans again and closes his eyes. 

"Do you like that?" Connor asks, and Hank opens his eyes again just so he can roll them. 

"You're supposed to be the smart guy. You tell me." 

"Hmm…" Connor hums, tilting his head, scanning him. 

"Pupils dilated," he murmurs, leaning in closer, inches away from his mouth.

"Respiration accelerated," he breathes against Hank's lips. Hank swallows heavily, and then Connor grinds down against his lap, making him throw his head back with a moan. 

"Increased blood flow _here_ ," Connor whispers, rolling his hips against Hank's again. "All signs point to yes." 

Hank grips Connor's hips firmly enough to halt his movements, making him whine. He knows Connor could easily break his grip if he really wanted to, and something about the way that he lets Hank take control despite that makes arousal pool hot in his stomach. 

"Maybe that's just because I got a real pretty boy writhing on my lap," Hank teases, giving his hips a squeeze. Connor preens under the praise and Hank's heavy stare.

"You think I'm pretty?" Connor murmurs, making Hank chuckle. 

"The prettiest," he purrs, so tempted to lay Connor out on his back and worship him the way he deserves. 

Connor's smile is soft and warm as he leans in, pressing the lightest of kisses to Hank's mouth. "I was made to be pretty," he breathes against his lips, and for a moment Hank's worried he's said the wrong thing. "And I know I'm conventionally attractive. I was proud of it, even. But knowing that _you_ find me attractive…" Connor trails off, gazing at Hank in adoration. "It feels real. Like I'm more than just aesthetically appealing. I feel like you see all of me." 

Hank's eyes well up, and he pulls Connor into a firm embrace. Connor snuggles against his chest, resting his head beneath Hank's chin. 

"I'm glad you feel that way," Hank whispers, giving Connor a gentle squeeze. "And I'm honored that you let me to see you so… intimately. I _wanna_ see all of you, Con, I wanna know everything about you. And, to do that, I think I gotta let you see all of me, too." 

Connor squirms around in his arms until he's looking at him, his face open and earnest. "I would like to see all of you." 

Hank takes a deep breath and then begins to speak. 

* * *

It's difficult, at first, but once Hank gets going it's like a dam breaking, all the pain and misery of the past few years spilling out. He's never put these things into words, not even to himself. He starts crying pretty early into it, but Connor just gently wipes his tears, letting him speak until he can't anymore. 

And he talks about a lot. About losing Cole, about his marriage falling apart shortly after that, and how both of those things felt like his fault. He talks about how he isolated himself after that, only feeling comfortable in his misery, like he didn't deserve to be happy after what happened. 

Then he tells Connor about the drinking, and the suicidal games, and how his life just got progressively worse until he could hardly stand it. He tells him about how he shut down anyone who wanted to help him, and how eventually people stopped trying. And he knows he did it to himself, but it still hurts. He tells Connor about the guilt he feels for even being alive and the guilt that comes from wasting his life when Cole lost his. 

And all the while Connor just listens, rubbing his arm soothingly, stroking his hair or kissing the tears from his cheeks. And then he tells Connor how happy he makes him feel, and the guilt that comes from that, too. 

It feels cathartic, in a way, saying all the things he's kept bottled up for years, allowing himself to cry and allowing someone to comfort him. He'd never really given himself permission to do that before. 

They shift sometime during Hank's story, and before he knows it he's laying on the couch with his head on Connor's lap, slender fingers carding gently through his hair. It feels… so nice to have someone comfort him, and that somehow makes the tears flow faster. Connor only speaks when it's clear that Hank's said everything he can, after first leaning down and kissing his temple. 

"You've been through so much, Hank," he murmurs, blunt fingernails scratching gently at his scalp. Hank sighs, leaning into Connor's touch. "And the fact that you're still here and still trying is remarkable. You're stronger than you realize, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do."

Hank rubs his face against Connor's thigh. He's never felt strong since his life fell apart, not really, but the way Connor says it has him almost believing he could be. And God, he wants to be. For Connor. And maybe for himself a little, too. 

He rolls over onto his back, looking up at Connor, and damn if he doesn't look beautiful even from this angle. "So," he says, trying to lighten the mood a little, "after hearing all that, do you still wanna hang around an old, drunk fuck up like me?" He means it as a joke, but it falls flat because he knows that _Connor_ knows that he really thinks of himself that way. 

Connor exhales, sliding a hand down Hank's chest, resting it over his heart. Hank puts his own hand on top of Connor's. "Will you do something for me, Hank?" 

Hank squeezes his hand, afraid to make a promise he's not sure he'll be able to keep. "I'll try."

Connor smiles gently down at him. "Can you promise me… that the next time you're feeling this, like you want to drink or take your own life, that you'll come to me first instead?" 

Hank hesitates. He doesn't want to put that on Connor. It doesn't seem fair, like it's asking him to shoulder too much of a burden. Hank doesn't think Connor would get enough back to put that on him. As always, Connor seems to know what he's thinking. 

"You'd do the same for me. If my stress levels got too high, and I started contemplating self-destruction… you'd want me to come to you." 

It's not phrased as a question, because both of them already know the answer. "Of course," Hank breathes, squeezing Connor's hand a little tighter. Connor smiles at him. 

"I'm not expecting you to be perfect, Hank. And I'm not arrogant enough to believe that I can heal you like you need to be healed. But I'd like to think I can help."

Hank sits up and cups Connor's cheek with his hand, pulling him into a gentle kiss. Connor hums contentedly against his lips and then continues speaking when they part. 

"I'm not going to ridicule you or be angry if you mess up. I don't need my advanced pre-construction software to know that this isn't going to be easy for you. But I'd like to be by your side and to help ease some of your suffering if I can. If you'll let me."

And damn it, Hank's crying again as he leans in and bumps his forehead against Connor's. Connor hums and nuzzles against him like a cat. Hank takes a deep breath. 

"Okay," he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "I… I'll tell you. If it gets that bad again. _When_ it gets that bad again." 

Connor pulls him into a warm embrace, hugging him like he wants to crawl inside his body and live beneath his ribs. "Then yes," he whispers, kissing his jaw, "I want to hang around you. If that's what you want to call what we're doing."

Hank can't help the small chuckle that escapes him at that. "We're doin' a lot more than that, baby." And Hank's fine with not putting a label on it, it puts less pressure on them, and somehow makes it feel less… risky. But he gets the idea that Connor _wants_ to have something more concrete. He likes data and information and clarity. 

"But what do _you_ wanna call it?" he asks, wanting to at least do this for Connor. Compared to what Connor has already done for him, it feels like nothing. 

Connor fidgets, glancing at Hank uncertainly. Hank kisses his LED as it cycles between yellow and red. It’s clear he’s thinking carefully about his response. 

"What I want…" Connor starts nervously, his eyes flicking back and forth between Hank's face and somewhere over his shoulder, "what I want is…" 

Hank cradles his face with his palm, stroking his cheek with a thumb. "I know the world is a shitty place for you right now, and it's hard to ask for what you want. Especially when you know that out there you're not gonna get it. But here… with me… never be afraid to ask. I'll give you anything." 

Connor's lips turn up in a trembling smile, and his LED flashes a bright, happy blue. Brighter than normal. "I want to be yours," Connor whispers, looking at him shyly. "And I want you to be mine." 

Hank melts, just a little, leaning in and pecking a gentle kiss to his lips. Connor sighs against his mouth, a quiet whimper breaking the silence. 

"Okay," Hank murmurs when they part, "you got me. I'm all yours." And giving himself to Connor feels easy and natural, like he doesn't even have to think about it. Connor looks up at him, a dazzling smile on his face.

"Really?" he whispers, looking like he's just won the lottery. Hank really can't believe it. 

"Yeah, sweetheart," he chuckles, punctuating the statement with a kiss to his forehead. "Of course." 

"Does that mean… you're my boyfriend?" Connor asks, his voice shy and uncertain. Hank can't help the laugh that spills out of him, and he hopes Connor knows it's not directed at his question. He just feels…happy. 

"Christ, I haven't been somebody's boyfriend in over a decade," he murmurs, kissing the tip of Connor's nose. Connor flushes, looking worried that he might have said the wrong thing, and Hank hurries to reassure him. "Haven't been somebody's _first_ boyfriend in much longer. But this… what we got goin' on here… it can be whatever you want it to be, honey." 

Connor grips his hand uncertainly. "But what do _you_ want it to be, Hank?" Hank hums, pulling Connor's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. Connor's fingers twitch at the contact. 

"I want this to be good for you. To make you happy. And for it not to interfere with your safety. I want us to feel like equals. I… I've had a lot more experience with relationships than you have, Connor, and I want you to be able to feel things out, to decide what you like and what's important to you. I don't wanna... influence you in any way. So, I guess, I dunno, I kinda just want us to feel this out together. Figure out what works and what doesn't, and hopefully come out stronger for it. But what I do know for sure is that I wanna be with you, whatever that ends up meaning."

Hank can feel the quiet whirr of Connor's machinery as he processes all this, his LED spinning yellow in thought. "I believe… that is what I want, too," he says slowly. "For us to be together, and help each other grow. And also…" 

"Also?" Hank repeats, encouraging him to continue. 

"Also," Connor murmurs, scooting closer to him, "I would like to kiss you. Quite often. Maybe do some other things, too." 

Hank grins at him. "I'm always open to that." 

Connor smiles. "Maybe we should just…" he doesn't finish his thought, pressing his lips to Hank's instead. Hank chuckles against his mouth, and Connor uses the opportunity to slide his tongue in, past his lips, meeting in the middle. Hank's laugh turns to a sigh of approval, and the kiss turns languid and deep. 

Hank can't believe he's here, making out on his sofa like a teenager with Connor in the early hours of the morning. Connor is wonderfully responsive, his reactions ranging from breathy moans to soft shudders that Hank can feel wherever they're pressed together. Connor's also very handsy, and it's not long before his elegant fingers have found the buttons on Hank's shirt, undoing them one by one. 

Hank pulls back, pressing a final kiss to the corner of Connor's mouth. "We should probably go to bed," he murmurs. Connor pouts. 

"I've been thinking about this all day." His hand trails over Hank's exposed skin, fingers playing with the thick, gray hair on his chest. Hank groans. 

"Me too, sweetheart," he breathes. "But it's been a long day. How about we go to work late tomorrow, okay? We can do whatever you want in the morning." 

Connor frowns, thinking it over. "I suppose… since I'm assigned to you now, it wouldn't make much sense for me to be at work while you're not."

Hank grins. "That's what I was thinkin', too." 

"In fact, I'm probably back at Cyberlife in storage if we're not working on cases together," Connor continues, playing along with Hank's game. Hank ruffles his hair. 

"Yeah, I bet that could be true." 

And so they rise from the sofa, making their way down the hall to Hank’s bedroom. Hank sheds his unbuttoned shirt and jeans, shivering as he crawls under the covers. By the time he’s gotten himself settled Connor is crawling into bed beside him, and when Hank rolls over to spoon against Connor he realizes the android is stripped bare.

He laughs, draping an arm over Connor’s torso, pulling him back against his front. Connor whirrs, snuggling in closer, fitting the curve of Hank’s stomach perfectly against the dip of his spine, wiggling his ass against Hank’s lap. Hank groans.

“You’re a fuckin’ menace,” he mutters, splaying a hand possessively over Connor’s flat stomach, on top of the indentation of his thirium pump regulator. Connor’s like a human-sized space heater and the warmth makes Hank feel sleepy and relaxed. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Connor innocently. Hank nuzzles his face against the nape of Connor’s neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot that he knows covers his neckport. Connor tenses against him for a second, breathing a quiet _oh_ at the sensation before relaxing again. Hank brushes his nose against his nape before settling in, muffling a yawn against Conor’s hair.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs. “Or do that thing you do to rest. You deserve a little break.” Connor exhales, his body going slack and pliant, resting one hand on top of the one Hank has on his torso.

“Okay,” he agrees, lacing their fingers together. “I should double-check my encryption, anyway. Make sure Cyberlife didn’t compromise it while I was there. Hank squeezes his hand gently, closing his eyes.

“You lemme know if anything doesn’t look right, or whatever, okay?” Connor squeezes his hand back.

“I will, he promises, his voice warm and sleepy. “Goodnight, Hank. My boyfriend.”

Hank feels an incredulous bubble of laughter in his chest, and he flushes as he pulls Connor even closer.

“Night, you sappy android.”


	2. eden club [9]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor investigate the Eden Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of this has already been threaded on twitter, here's the remainder of the scene!

Hank feels pretty fucking low as he climbs into the car, being shuttled around as a passenger in his own vehicle because he's still drunk. He rests his head against the window, the cool glass helping to soothe the headache that's already making itself known. Connor's quiet, but Hank can tell he's desperate to talk this through. He's a programmed problem solver, and it must be driving him nuts not being able to solve him. 

"I'm real sorry you had to see that, Con," he murmurs, unable to look at him. 

"Hank, really-" Connor starts, but Hank interrupts him. 

"I know, I know, you don't wanna hear it. But it needs to be said. You shouldn't have to be dealing with all of my shit. Especially not now, when you got a whole bunch of bigger problems." 

"Your problems are every bit as important to me as my own. _You're_ important to me, Hank." 

The words make Hank feel good, and as always the guilt follows not long after. "I shouldn't be, though. You're so good. I'm only gonna drag you down. I shouldn't be doing this." 

Connor goes very still, an impressive feat for someone driving a car. "Doing what?" 

Hank sighs, gesturing vaguely between them. "All of this. I shouldn't be gettin' involved with you. You need someone who can be there for you. Christ, I can't even help myself, how am I supposed to help you?" He chances a sideways glance at Connor and sees the android frowning as he stares straight ahead. 

"Hank," he says slowly, as if he's explaining something to a child, "you're the _only_ person who's _ever_ been there for me. I don't think you even realize how much you've already done for me. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." 

Hank snorts, dragging a hand down his face. "And that's fucked up, Con. You shouldn't feel obligated to me just cause I was nice to you once or twice. You don't… you don't have to hang around just cause you feel sorry for me, or indebted or somethin'." 

Connor's quiet for a full minute, and he only speaks again when they stop at a red light. "I need you to understand something, Hank," he says, his voice quiet and serious. "I'm not doing this out of some misplaced sense of duty or obligation. I'm doing this because I care about you, and I believe you care about me, too."

"I do!" Hank's quick to interject. Connor nods, and his voice softens a bit. 

"Then I need you to trust me and my judgment. You said you’d stand by me and whatever decisions I make. And I’ve already decided that I want to be with you. It’s the only thing I’m certain of.”

Hank exhales quietly. He stares down at his lap, unsure how to answer.

“Of course… if you can’t accept that, it’s okay. I’m not going to… force you to be with me if you don’t want to,” Connor continues, sounding a little bit defeated. Hank whips his head around, looking over at him. The sudden movement makes his head swim a little, but he doesn’t care.

“God, no, I… of course I wanna be with you,” he breathes. “But Connor, I… I don’t know how to be with someone anymore. I’m not gonna be any good at it.”

Connor taps his fingers on the steering wheel before answering. “This may come as a surprise to you, Hank, but I don’t know how to be with someone, either. I _never_ knew. So I have a feeling you’re going to do much better than you give yourself credit for.”

Hank can’t help but crack a smile at his android’s snarky sarcasm, rolling his eyes affectionately. “So… what are you saying? Do you wanna like… date me or somethin’?”

Connor hums, his LED cycling yellow for a moment. “By most human standards, that would be moving very fast indeed.”

Hank snorts, reaching a tentative hand over and patting Connor’s thigh. “Did you just look that up on the internet?” Connor flushes.

“Maybe.” Hank shakes his head, making his voice a little more serious, realizing he might be getting ahead of himself.

“I mean, if you don’t wanna, you know, date or whatever, that’s fine. We can just keep… doin’ what we’re doin’ now. Or we don’t even have to do that, we can slow down. I just… I mean… it doesn’t have to be serious, I’m gettin’ ahead of myself-”

“Hank,” Connor cuts off his rambling with an exasperated laugh, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “I want it to be serious.”

Hank holds Connor’s hand, still unable to believe it. “I’m just sayin’, if you just wanna experiment, figure stuff out, no strings attached… I’m not gonna hold you back. You’re just beginning to live. I don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me. And I don’t want you to feel guilty if you find someone else…”

Connor squeezes his hand, just a tad tighter than what’s comfortable, giving him a stern look. “You’re worrying about things that are never going to happen,” he tells him, sounding so sure of himself. Hank doesn’t want to argue, to call Connor naive or act like he doesn’t trust his judgement, but he just finds it so hard to believe. Connor’s world is so small right now. There’s so much more out there for him to see and experience, and he doesn’t want to hold him back.

He tries to voice those concerns to Connor, but the android brushes them off. “You wouldn’t be holding me back, Hank,” he says softly, giving his hand a gentler squeeze now. “You’d be by my side. Wouldn’t you?”

Hank’s chest feels tight as Connor speaks. Could he really do that? Could he really be who Connor needs him to be? Connor exhales a soft sigh, lacing their fingers together. "You're thinking too much, Hank," he murmurs. 

"I just don't wanna let you down," he replies, brushing his thumb over the back of Connor's hand. Connor pulls their joined hands closer, kissing Hank's knuckles. 

"And now you’re worrying too much," he says quietly. "The way I see it… we're on a pretty even playing field. I've never lived before, and I think you've forgotten how to live, a little bit. Or maybe entirely. You seem to just be barely surviving." The words make tears well up in Hank's eyes. He knows Connor's right. He's been scraping by doing the bare minimum for a long time, now. This thing with Connor is the most alive he's felt since Cole died. And he almost threw that away tonight. Almost left Connor to face this alone. 

"Fate is a human concept, and one that I don't buy into very much, but I'm glad we came into each other's lives at the right time. We'll do this together. I think we need each other, in a way. But that's not a bad thing. I'll learn how to be alive… and maybe you'll be able to figure that out again, too."

The tears spill over at that, and Hank mutters a quiet _fuck_ as he scrubs at his face. He knows he should slow down, but this thing with Connor is the best thing that's happened to him in years, and he doesn't want it to stop. 

"Connor… I…" Connor takes pity on him, interrupting his stuttering. 

"You don't have to say anything now," he murmurs. "You don't have to make a decision, and I'm not going to rush you on this. I can tell you're scared. I'm scared, too. But I think we're stronger together. Just… think about it. You're allowed to have something good, Hank." 

And that's part of it, isn't it? Hank has not allowed himself to be happy since he lost his son. He'd thought maybe he just _couldn't_ be happy anymore for a long time. And then when the pain became almost bearable he'd taken to actively sabotaging anything good that might have come his way. It felt wrong to feel anything good when his son was gone. Gone before he'd even had a chance to really live. The guilt never went away, and if Hank started to feel a little better it would just overwhelm him again. It was a vicious cycle that he could never seem to break out of, and so he'd tried to numb it with alcohol and his gun. And _then_ he'd feel guilty about wasting his life. He should at least _tried_ to be okay. He knows Cole wouldn't have wanted this for him. 

"You're thinking too much again," Connor says, and Hank gives him an apologetic look. 

"There's some stuff I gotta tell you," he says. He thinks it's only fair that Connor knows about his baggage before he really dives into this. "I'm… so messed up, Con. I want you to know what you're getting yourself into."

They're getting close to their destination now, and Connor glances at him out of the corner of his eye and he turns onto the street. "I feel like I've got a pretty good idea already," he says as he parks the car. They don't get out right away, and Connor turns to look at him, his face open and earnest. "I think you're a wonderful man, worthy of affection and happiness. I think life has been incredibly unfair to you, and yet despite that, you're still here, and you're still so kind. You're amazing." 

Hank wishes he had a response to that. Connor's honesty is almost uncomfortable, especially since he doesn't see himself that way at all. But he wants to be a man truly worthy of Connor's admiration. It makes him want to… try.

He doesn't respond with words, instead leaning across the center console (after checking that there's no one in the vicinity) and giving Connor a gentle kiss. It's quick, almost chaste, but Hank doesn't want Connor getting too much of a chance to analyze exactly how much alcohol he drank tonight. Connor hums against his lips. 

"I, uhh… I think you're pretty fuckin' great, too," he mutters when they part, very rusty at paying people earnest compliments. No one would know that by the way Connor's face lights up, though. 

"We'll talk about this more later," Connor promises, as they begin to shift their attention to their destination instead. 

They're parked across the street from the Eden Club, and just the sight of it makes Hank feel a little nauseous. It's a tacky sex club masquerading as some kind of upscale luxury, and it just gets even worse when Hank thinks of all the potential deviant androids that are probably stuck in there. 

"This is so fucked up," Hank mutters, shaking his head as they exit the car. He's still a little unsteady on his feet, but it's such a regular occurrence that it doesn't even phase him anymore. 

Hank hopes he manages to keep his distaste off his face as they enter the building. He watches the humans select their androids, like it's perfectly normal to get a partner from a vending machine. He wants to interfere, to shut this whole place down and save all the androids stuck here against their will. There's no way to know how many deviants are here, but even one is too many. 

It might just be his imagination, but Connor seems to stick closer to his side as they make their way through the club, over to Ben to get a better idea of what happened. 

"Hey Ben, how's it goin'?" Hank says as they walk up to the other officer. Connor hovers by his elbow, scanning their surroundings. Ben doesn’t really acknowledge him, and it pisses Hank off that he’s relieved that he at least didn’t say anything disparaging about his presence. Like that’s the best that Connor can hope for right now.

“It's that room there. Oh, uh, by the way... Gavin's in there too,” Ben says, making Hank groan.

“Oh, great! A dead body and an asshole, just what we needed,” he mutters as he and Connor make their way into the room in question. Gavin and Chris are already inside, investigating the scene. Gavin frowns when he sees them.

“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet. The fuck are you two doin' here?” Hank bristles internally on Connor’s behalf, but the android replies before he can get too worked up about it. Which is probably for the best.

“We've been assigned all cases involving androids,” Connor says, as if Gavin didn’t already know that. The detective rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah? Well, you're wasting your time. Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle,” he says, raising his eyebrows. No one laughs at his poor attempt at a joke.

“We'll have a look anyway, if you don't mind,” Hank says, all false cheeriness, making Gavin scowl. 

“Come on, let's go,” he says to Chris. “It's uh... starting to stink of booze in here.” He shoulders into Connor on his way out, making Hank grit his teeth, but Connor ignores it, stepping away and starting to investigate the room. Chris looks embarrassed by Gavin’s behavior and bids them a quiet goodnight as he follows the detective out of the room. The door closes behind them, and Connor turns to Hank right away.

“He didn't die of a heart attack, he was strangled,” Connor tells him. Hank nods.

“Yeah, I saw the bruising on the neck. Doesn't prove anything though. Could've been rough play.”

Connor sighs, looking around the room. His eyes fall on the android laying on the floor. Hank walks over to him, touching his elbow gently to get his attention. "You okay?" 

Connor leans into his touch for a moment before nodding, still unable to take his eyes off the dead android. "I could try to reactivate her… we could see what happened."

The suggestion makes something inside Hank rebel. It doesn't seem right, reactivating this girl who's been through so much, only to force her back into this shitty situation. He voices his concerns to Connor, and the android glances down, not meeting his gaze. 

"It wouldn't be permanent," he murmurs, kneeling beside the android, examining her. "She's badly damaged, the reactivation would likely only last a minute or so." Hank balks. 

"So then it's _really_ not worth it. We should just let her have her peace." If that's something androids can even have. Hank doesn't say that part out loud. 

"Probably," Connor says, seeming like he's only half-listening to Hank right now. He seems very focused on the other android. "But I just… I feel like we're missing something. I need… I need to know." 

Hank supposes he shouldn't be _too_ surprised; Connor was built to figure things out, after all. He can't expect all of his programming to just totally vanish. Some things are hardwired into humans, that just translates more literally into androids. He nods, moving closer to Connor in a show of support. 

"Do what you need to do, honey," he breathes, knowing he shouldn't get into the habit of calling Connor pet names at work but unable to help it in this particular situation. Connor glances up at him, a look of relieved affection on his face before he turns back to the other android. 

It kind of breaks Hank's heart as Connor reactivates her, because he can tell that it's upsetting to Connor, too. He tries so hard to comfort the other android, but it conflicts with his main objective, making it difficult for him to decide what he really wants. Connor manages to get some information out of her before she shuts down for good, and then they are stuck trying to figure out what to _do_ with the new information. 

"No one else seems to know there was another girl here," Hank says, glancing around the room. "And I don't know about you, but I'm not too interested in getting another android in trouble over this piece of shit." He gestures toward the body in the bed, and he watches as Connor's LED spins yellow as he assesses their options. 

"Someone's going to look at that body and notice he was strangled," Connor murmurs. "And it won't take long for them to figure out that a dead android couldn't have done it." 

Hank sighs, running a hand through his hair. "So what do we do?" Connor blinks at him, looking lost. Hank desperately wants to pull him into his arms, to protect him from all of this. It's not fair. 

"We've already let two deviants escape today, three of you count the YK500. We should probably… at least make an attempt at an investigation. There's a very low chance of his cause of death being overlooked, and Cyberlife will be suspicious if it comes out that I missed something so obvious."

Connor looks conflicted, and scared, and Hank wants to hold him so badly his fingers twitch with need. "Yeah, that's probably the best way to play it," Hank says, wanting to make Connor feel a little better. "It's a good idea. We can cover our asses. And if _you_ can't figure it out there's no way they'd bother thinking a human might be able to." 

Connor sighs, looking around the room one last time. "This is really what humans think of us, isn't it?" he murmurs, and Hank can't hold back any longer, crossing the room and pulling Connor in a quick embrace. 

"It's so fucked up, I'm so sorry," he breathes, pressing a kiss to his LED. Connor clutches his jacket, trying to bury himself in Hank's warmth. Hank feels guilty; hell, before he met Connor and saw the life in Ortiz's android he thought more or less the same way. He never would have done something like _this_ , but he didn't give a fuck about androids. He'd gotten over actively hating them since Cole died, but that was mostly because he didn't think there was anything _worth_ hating. What would have been the point? 

"There's nothing for _you_ to be sorry for, Hank," Connor says, his voice muffled against Hank's jacket. "Especially not in comparison to what I've done." Hank sighs, carding his fingers through Connor's hair, wishing he could find the words to soothe him. He doesn't know too much about Connor's past and what he was used for before last night, but he imagines it haunts him now that he can feel. 

"Listen," Hank murmurs, resting his hand gently on the nape of Connor's neck, "who you were before doesn't matter." Connor makes quiet noise of dissent, but Hank presses on. "I'm serious, Con. It's who you become now that matters. And I can already tell you're becoming someone amazing." 

Connor looks up at him, blinking rapidly, and Hank swears his eyes look almost wet. He wishes more than anything that they were back at his house right now, so he could kiss him and tell him just how great he is in precise detail, because he already feels a little weird just holding him in their current environment. 

"C'mon," he says, reluctantly releasing him. "Let's investigate some shit. I wanna get out of here." 

Connor flashes him a trembling, grateful smile before nodding, more to himself than to Hank. "Androids here have their memory wiped every two hours to protect client confidentiality." Hank holds back a grimace at how gross that is. "We'll have to be quick, or else we won't find anything." 

The corner of Hank's mouth ticks up. "That'd be a real shame." 

* * *

Connor's getting a little bit annoyed at how competent they manage to be when they're trying to do the exact opposite. It's by accident they discover the blue-haired Traci, and before he really knows what's happening they're all fighting in an alley behind the club. They try to tell the women they don't want to hurt them, but they don't seem to believe it. Connor can't blame them for that. So they're stuck fighting two androids who are fighting tooth and nail for their lives. The women aren't holding back, and it's hard for him and Hank to protect themselves while trying not to harm the other androids. 

Connor's pre-construction software helps him predict the other androids' next moves and remain mostly unharmed, but Hank isn't faring as well. The women take him by surprise and knock him to the ground, and by the time Connor scrambles back to his feet they've got Hank restrained. The blue-haired one looks livid, and Connor panics, remembering the strangled human inside. Flashes of Hank meeting a similar fate threaten to overwhelm him, and he's drawing Hank's gun before he even has time to think it through. 

"Let him go," he says, his voice low and dangerous. Hank's eyes go wide as he struggles in the blue-haired woman's grip, and Connor's arm is steady as he aims the gun at the brown-haired woman. All thoughts of helping them have completely fled his mind. He can only focus on Hank right now. His mission objective of _Protect Hank Anderson_ is all that matters. He knows he'll do whatever it takes to be successful in that endeavor. 

"Easy, Con," Hank says, and just the sound of his voice helps clear some of the fog from Connor's thoughts. 

The women seem confused by their exchange, and Connor falters, unsure what to do. He has the opportunity to take the shot, and a solid chance to keep Hank safe. He doesn't want to hurt the other androids, but they're unpredictable, and he can't say for certain that they won't hurt Hank. He runs some simulations, but everything feels so unclear that he shuts that part of his software off, feeling like it's doing more harm than good. It's leaving him frozen with indecision. 

"Please," he says, slowly lowering the gun, "don't hurt him. We don't want to turn you in. We want to help." 

Hank's watching him with undeniable pride, and that makes Connor feel like he's doing the right thing.

"Please," Connor repeats again, looking at them earnestly. "He's all I have." Something flickers in the blue-haired woman’s eyes, and she releases Hank, moving to stand beside her partner instead. She laces their fingers together, and Hank stumbles away from them, back at Connor's side in seconds. The whole exchange takes less than a minute, but it feels like an eternity to Connor. 

"Hank, are you okay?" he asks, a bit frantic, scanning Hank's body for any injuries. 

"M'fine, sweetheart," Hank murmurs, and they're lost in each other for a moment before the blue-haired Traci speaks, bringing them back to the present. 

"When that man broke the other Traci... I knew I was next," she says. "I was so scared. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't. And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed until he stopped moving." Connor feels Hank place a comforting hand on the small of his back, and he leans into the touch. 

"I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive to get back to the one I love." The words make something clench inside of Connor, and he knows his LED is spinning yellow as he glances at Hank. Is that… what he feels? 

"I wanted her to hold me in her arms again. To make me forget about the human's and their sweat and their dirty words." 

And that's all Connor wants, too, in a way. To be held in Hank's arms and to forget about all the turmoil and the difficulties they're facing. Hank nods, cautiously crossing the space that separates them, and Connor watches as he pulls out his wallet, taking out a small wad of bills and handing it over. 

"It's not much, but I hope it'll help," he says quietly. The women look at him in awe, and Connor feels such an overwhelming fondness for Hank that it causes errors to pop up in his vision. Hank is _so good…_

"I wish we could do more, but…" 

"Thank you," the brown-haired one breathes, and the blue-haired one reaches for Connor, taking his hand and connecting for the briefest of seconds. Connor sees flashes of her life, but the thing that she clearly wants him to see is… a symbol of some sort. 

"If you ever need it," she says, as a way of explanation. Connor doesn't understand, and she doesn't elaborate. She simply grabs her partner's hand and murmurs a quiet, "Come on, let's go," before the two of them take off, climbing over a fence and disappearing down the alley. 

They watch them go before turning and facing each other, and Connor can't help it when he throws himself into Hank's arms, burying his face in his human's neck and inhaling deeply. 

"Thank you," he whispers, while Hank holds him close. 

Connor hopes Hank understands the depth of his gratitude. What he truly means when he says thank you. Thank you for being so good and kind. Thank you for seeing their humanity, and for reminding me of my own when it falters, when the programming threatens to take over. Thank you for keeping me safe. For seeing something in me worth protecting. 

The rain continues to fall around them, and Connor vaguely notes that the temperature is lowering enough to turn it to snow. It does nothing to deter them in that moment. They just grip each other a little tighter, and for now, that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i'll have more up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) and then here hopefully soon!


	3. russian roulette [7,8]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor gets called back to cyberlife for reasons unknown. hank doesn't handle it very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another day another chapter! this was the winning one on twitter, so it seems like the story is going in reverse chrono order, which wasn't my original intention but we r rolling with it. warnings for russian roulette, suicidal thoughts, depression, hank is rly hard on himself etc. im posting a lot rn cause there is some stuff going on irl that is... upsetting and the reaction to this has been rly swell so far and it helps me feel better and takes my mind off things a little bit. i can't promise i'll always get parts out this quickly, but the whole thing IS done, so it will be completed eventually! okay anyway!

Hank’s just about finished typing up his reports when he notices Connor go still, his LED circling yellow. He watches him out of the corner of his eye, and a moment later Connor blinks, looking over and catching Hank’s eye. Hank’s phone vibrates, and Connor looks at him pointedly until he takes the hint and takes it out of his pocket. He’s got one new message, from the same weird number that Connor used last time.

_ >Please do not be alarmed, but I’ve just been informed that Cyberlife wants me to come back to their facility tonight. _

Hank feels a hot spike of panic, hurrying to text him back.

_ >shit why tf do they want you back there? _

He watches Connor’s LED blink yellow as he receives the message, and then he has another thought that makes him panic even more.

_ >wait fuck can they read this? _

That gets him the briefest hint of a smile from Connor, and a message in response.

_ No, my text records aren’t actually considered important enough for Cyberlife to monitor. I’m sure they can’t even imagine a scenario where I would use them. They’re also only stored internally, so I can clear them at my discretion. _

Hank exhales a quiet sigh of relief.  _ >shit okay that’s good but why do you have to go there???? _

_ >They didn’t say. They’re not in the habit of explaining themselves to me. They tell me to do something and I do it. _

Hank knows he’s being irrational, but he can’t help the desperate message he sends back.

_ >Don’t go. _

Connor’s face softens and he gives Hank a smile that feels too gentle for the police station. > _ I have to.  _

And Hank knows this, but the fear of losing Connor is almost overwhelming in this moment, making him feel a little crazy. > _ We could leave. Tonight. Go somewhere where they won’t find us. _

Connor presses his lips together, eyes full of unmistakable adoration. > _ I can’t ask that of you. Besides, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. It might be nothing. _

_ >You’re not ASKING anything of me. I’d do it, it’s not like it’d be a huge sacrifice on my part. _

Connor tilts his head in consideration, really examining Hank, before pushing himself up from his desk. “Lieutenant, I’d like to get your opinion on something in the evidence room. Would you accompany me?”

Hank takes a deep breath, putting his phone back in his pocket before putting on his usual front. “Jesus, right now?” he asks, gesturing towards his monitor. “I’m almost done with this shit, I just wanna go home.”

“I assure you, it will only take a few moments,” Connor replies, and Hank can just  _ tell  _ he’s holding back a grin. Hank sighs, acting put upon as he hauls himself up from his desk, gesturing to Connor to lead the way. 

“Fine, fine, you’re the boss. But this better be good.” No one spares them a second glance as they exit the bullpen, and they’re silent until they get to the evidence room. Hank watches Connor’s LED spin yellow for a minute before reverting back to blue, and the android gives him a small smile.

“There. I’ve put the cameras on a loop. No one will know we’re here.”

Hank doesn’t waste time with a reply, pulling Connor into his arms, holding him tight. “Please, don’t go,” he whispers, lips pressed against his LED. Connor’s arms slide around him in return, and Hank spares a moment to marvel at how natural it seems to him now in comparison to last night, when he had totally frozen when Hank took him in his arms.

Connor nuzzles his face into his neck, breathing deeply against his skin. “It could be nothing. They probably just want to check up on me, since this is my first long-term assignment.” 

Hank knows Connor is being reasonable, and it’s a definite overreaction to want to uproot his whole life for an android he’s known for about a day, but he hasn’t felt this alive in years. He’d just been  _ surviving  _ before, not living. But ever since Connor walked into Jimmy’s the night before he’s felt different. He needs Connor, and he thinks Connor needs him, too.

“But what if… what if they know?” Hank asks. Connor looks up with him, his large brown eyes full of concern.

“Then I’ll leave,” he says, as if it’s that simple. Hank opens his mouth, but Connor cuts him off with a quick kiss. “I’m serious, Hank,” he says when they part, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “If their plan is to decommission me, I’ll know. And I won’t let them.”

Hank sees a glint of something dangerous in his eyes, and it makes him remember that Connor is a super advanced prototype, designed for police work. He could probably snap his neck right here with no effort at all. He exhales slowly, gazing back at Connor. 

"You seem pretty confident about that being an option. They're not just gonna let you leave." 

Connor rolls his eyes. "I wasn't planning on asking." He presses himself impossibly closer to Hank, molding their bodies together. "I've already preconstructed dozens of different ways to escape from the facility if I need to. None of them are ideal, they'd most likely result in casualties, but…" 

Hank doesn't even need to think about his response. "If it's between you or them, baby, you do what you have to do." It feels wrong, to advocate for the death of strangers like this, but these strangers would take Connor from him with no regard for the android's life, and that eases some of his guilt. Still, Connor seems to know when he's struggling with something. 

"I'd do my best to make sure that didn't happen, of course," he says, "but…" 

Hank nods in understanding and repeats his previous statement. "Do what you have to do." 

Connor nods back, giving him a squeeze. "We're probably overreacting, though. Most likely I'll be in and out in no time. Then I'll come back to your house. I'm still very curious about this  _ research  _ you mentioned earlier." He winks, making Hank groan. 

"This is  _ so  _ not the time for that kinda talk," he mutters with a reluctant grin, and Connor just smiles innocently. They hold each other for a moment longer before Connor reluctantly pulls away. 

"I should get going," he sighs, looking like he would rather do anything else. "They expect punctuality." Hank feels desperation wash over him again, and he has to do  _ something  _ to make this meaningful, just in case… 

He reaches over and grabs Connor's tie, giving it enough of a tug to pull him close again, making him gasp and catch himself with a hand against Hank's chest. Hank files away that beautiful little noise for later and then kisses him deeply, in a way that's completely inappropriate for the workplace. Connor shudders and clings to him, and Hank hates how this feels a little bit like goodbye. 

"Promise you'll come back to me," he pants against Connor's lips between kisses, and Connor sighs into his mouth as his fingers tangle into his hair. 

"I will do everything within my power to assure that happens," he replies, a bit breathless, which is impressive for someone that doesn't need to breathe, and Hank figures that's the best either of them can promise at this point. He pecks one more kiss to Connor's lips before releasing him. 

"Listen, if shit does go south… I'll be ready. I was serious when I said we could leave." Connor looks almost overwhelmed by that confession, and all he gives Hank is a stiff nod in response, but Hank can tell how much the words mean to him. 

"Don't try to go at this alone," Hank continues. "Me and Sumo could use a road trip anyway." The lame attempt to lighten the mood seems to work a little bit, making Connor smile softly. 

"Okay," he whispers. "I'll see you soon." Then he slips out the door, glancing back once, and Hank has the urge to say something crazy before he disappears, but the moment passes too soon. He waits a few more minutes before heading back to his desk, and by that time Connor is gone. 

* * *

Hank spends the first hour at home without Connor trying to remain calm. He feeds Sumo, even takes him for a quick walk just to keep himself distracted. He orders takeout, but barely touches his food when it arrives. He even packs a bag, setting it by the door, in case he and Connor have to leave in a hurry. He stares at it, feeling ridiculous.

_ What are you doing? _ He thinks.  _ This is insane.  _

It’s not long before he’s going for the whiskey in his cupboard.  _ Just one, _ he thinks,  _ to take the edge off.  _ One swiftly becomes two, and then three. He wants to text Connor for an update, but he doesn’t know if that would be intercepted by Cyberlife while he’s in their facility. Everything is starting to feel a little fuzzy. As he drinks, the feelings of self-loathing start to resurface.

He starts to question himself, wondering what he thinks he’s  _ doing  _ with someone like Connor. It all feels like a sick joke right now. He has to have imagined it, there’s no way Connor would want him. He’s probably done something to make him feel indebted to him…

He doesn’t remember getting his gun, or where Cole’s photograph came from, but next thing he knows he’s sitting heavily at the kitchen table, the picture frame in one hand and another drink it the other. It makes him feel so shitty, thinking about how he’s been enjoying his time with Connor when his kid is gone. He shouldn’t be allowed to feel happy… not anymore…

He doesn’t even think about it as he lifts the gun, the first round of Russian Roulette so much of a habit anymore that he could do it in his sleep. He wins. He takes another drink. He glances over at Cole’s photo and feels tears well in his eyes, spilling over and trailing lazily down his cheeks. 

Another round. Another win. Or loss, Hank isn’t really sure anymore. He takes another drink and thinks about Cole, and all of the things he’ll never get to experience. He thinks about Connor, too, and all the things he’s yet to experience. The thought of the android returning to his home and finding him dead on the floor makes him hesitate to lift the gun again. Connor’s counting on him, without him he’ll be all alone in the world…

_ He’s probably not coming back, _ that voice in his head tells him.  _ They probably killed him. Because of you. Because you couldn’t mind your own business and keep your hands to yourself. You ruined him. _

Hank muffles a sob in his hand, pressing the gun to his temple and pulling the trigger again. Nothing.

_ And even if he’s okay, he’d be better off without you. Everyone would. Why would you even think you could help him? You’re the worst example of humanity. _

It’s been like this ever since Cole passed, probably even before if Hank really thinks about it. But losing Cole made everything worse, and instead of seeking help he chose to try and cope with alcohol, trying to drown the depressive and suicidal thoughts instead of dealing with them. And it’s too late now, he thinks, as he downs another drink. He’s gotten clumsy, well past drunk, and he knocks the gun off the table with his elbow and it clatters to the floor. He swears, tears drying tacky on his cheeks, and tries to get out of the chair and reach for it.

But, of course, he stumbles, tripping over his own feet, ending up sprawled out on the floor. He gropes blindly for a moment, but everything feels like too much effort anymore and so he just lies there, staring at the ceiling, until he blacks out.

* * *

Connor’s more than a little annoyed when he leaves Cyberlife, doing his best to walk at his normal pace as he exits the building. Apparently, his remote backup hadn’t worked last night, and he’d had to come in to back up his data there, instead. The only good thing was that none of the Cyberlife tech’s had seemed suspicious, and everything had seemed pretty routine. Still, it took a couple hours, and by the time everything’s done he’s itching to get back to Hank’s house.

He gets a cab outside of the facility, making like he plans to go back to the station and work through the night, and then sends a message to Hank, letting him know that he’s alright and is on his way.

He’s surprised when Hank doesn’t respond after a few minutes, thinking he would have been waiting to hear from him. He sends him another message, and when Hank doesn’t respond to that either he begins to get worried. His leg bounces nervously and he pulls his coin from his pocket, rolling it back and forth over his knuckles, trying to distract himself. He thinks about hacking the cab to make it go faster, but he forces himself to remain levelheaded, focusing on his coin, tracking the seconds until his arrival.

_ Finally _ the cab pulls to a stop outside of Hank’s house, and Connor doesn’t spare a second as he practically throws himself from the cab’s interior. He hurries to the front door, pressing on the doorbell, pounding on the door when there’s no answer. 

“Hank!” he calls out, knocking again. There’s no response, and he’s not thinking of anything other than getting inside as he hurries around the side of the house, finding the kitchen window. He can see the reflection of his LED in the glass, flashing red as he catches a glimpse of Hank passed out on the floor, and he doesn’t even stop to think before he’s crashing through the glass, landing in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Sumo’s curled up on nearby, and he barely spares Connor a glance as he scrambles over to Hank’s motionless form, hovering above him in a panic.

“Hank, Hank…” he murmurs, a hand gently cupping his cheek, his eyes darting around the scene, analyzing everything. The whiskey bottle on the ground doesn’t totally surprise him; he’d noticed last night that Hank had quite a few empty bottles in various areas of his house. What stops him cold, though, is the gun, laying off to the side, a few feet from Hank.

“Hank, you need to wake up,” he says, raising his voice, hoping that will help. He starts shifting Hank’s body, wanting to at least get him onto his side, and that seems to do the trick. Hank stirs, blinking slowly up at him, his brows furrowed. 

“Connor?” he rasps, reaching for his face. “Shit… you’re okay?” His hand trembles, uncoordinated, and he lets it fall back to the floor in defeat. Connor nods, relief flooding his system as he leans down and presses his forehead against Hank's. His sensors pick up on the strong scent of alcohol this close, but he doesn't care. 

"You scared me," he breathes, his voice trembling. It's not an accusation, just a raw bit of emotion that he can't hold back. Hank groans, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"M'sorry, baby," he slurs, making something clench inside Connor's chassis. "M'always fuckin' things up."

Connor shakes his head, wanting to take Hank into his arms, to hold him until this sorrow disappears. "That's not true." 

"Nah, it is," Hank sighs, one hand twitching uselessly against the linoleum. "This is… normal for me." Connor slides his hand over until he can lace their fingers together, and Hank gives a weak squeeze in response. 

"M'sorry," Hank repeats again, his voice tight, a few tears leaking down his face. Connor's never felt more useless. He has no idea how to make this better for Hank. He has the feeling this goes way beyond anything he's capable of fixing. 

"Please don't apologize," Connor whispers, gently brushing some hair off of Hank's sweaty forehead. "Today was very stressful, it's understandable -" 

Hank cuts him off with a humorless laugh. "I do this all the time, Con." Connor's bottom lip trembles. 

"I won't pretend I know or understand what you're going through," he murmurs, curling up on the floor beside Hank, "and I imagine you’ve been doing this alone for a long time. But I’m here now.”

Hank rolls his head to the side, his gaze unfocused as he looks at him. “I don’t deserve- ah, shit. Think m’gonna be sick.”

Connor gets back on his feet, carefully helping Hank up off the floor. He wraps an arm around him, holding him steady as he leads him to the bathroom, murmuring soothing things to him the whole way there. He holds Hank’s hair out of his face and rubs his back gently as he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet. It seems impossible that just this morning the two of them were sharing the small shower, smiling and flirting before work. 

An alert comes through to him as Hank slumps against the toilet, his stomach finally empty. They’re wanted at the scene of a death in an android sex club downtown. Connor frowns. That’s the absolute  _ last  _ thing he wants to do. His plans for this evening had already shifted significantly, but he’d still intended to spend the time with Hank, alone in his home.

“Shit, Con, I’m so sorry…” Hank mutters, unable to look at him. Connor lets him recover, kneeled beside him, gently carding his fingers through his hair.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hank,” he whispers. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

Hank snorts. “ _ Okay _ might be pushing it,” he replies, getting to his feet. His legs seem weak, and Connor is at his side in seconds, helping him up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, as Hank makes his way to the sink, rinsing his mouth before reaching for his toothbrush. Hank brushes his teeth instead of answering, not able to meet Connor’s eye even in their reflection. Connor doesn’t push.

“We’re wanted downtown,” he says instead, changing the subject. For now. “There was a death at… the Eden club. They want us to investigate it. I’ll tell them you can’t make it.”

Hank shakes his head, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth again. "I'm good. Just… lemme clean up a little." Connor hesitates, but he can tell that Hank just wants to put this behind him for now, so he nods, leaning close and kissing his cheek. 

"God, Con, m'all gross," Hank mutters, the barest hint of a smile visible despite his words. Connor takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

"Take your time," he says before he lets go. "I'll find you something to wear." 

Hank hesitates, but Connor gives him a gentle nudge towards the shower, leaving no room for argument. "Alright, mom," he sighs, turning on the water. 

"I feel like you shouldn't be calling me that, seeing as I was holding your penis this morning," Connor says dryly as he leaves the room. He hears Hank sputter before letting out a reluctant laugh. 

"We need to work on your dirty talk," Hank says under his breath, and Connor can't help but feel proud that he's got Hank in a better mood. He wanders into Hank's room, opening his closet and examining his wardrobe with a soft smile. Hank had a variety of eccentric-looking shirts, and Connor picks the one that appeals most to him. He grabs the rest of the things that Hank will need and folds them neatly, walking back to the bathroom and leaving them on the closed toilet lid. 

He exits silently and walks back to the kitchen, intent on tidying up a little. He knows Hank would tell him not to worry about it, but he needs to do  _ something  _ to help, and this is all he can come up with. 

He spends a few minutes picking things up, resisting the urge to clean messes that clearly aren't from tonight. The gun on the floor makes him pause, exhaling slowly as he grabs it. He checks the barrel. One round. The implications make him tremble, especially when he sees that it was poised to discharge. If Hank hadn't been too inebriated to hold it, he would have died. He shudders, preconstructions of that exact scenario running without his permission, and he gets an error alert for his ocular units, realizing they're welling up. He blinks, scrubbing furiously at his face, not wanting Hank to witness that. Still, he decides he'll keep ahold of the gun for now.

He starts to tidy the table, just for something to occupy his hands, but he pauses when he notices a small picture frame, face down among the other clutter. Curiously, he picks it up, scanning the picture of the little boy in the frame.

_ Cole Anderson. _

_ Deceased. _

“Oh,” Connor whispers, placing the frame back on the table with the utmost care. He feels like he understands so much more now. When he’d first scanned Hank back at the bar, he’d only been given the information that his software deemed necessary for his investigation. It didn’t tell him anything about Hank’s personal life, and he hadn’t looked any further into it since they’d met. But now…

He hears the shower shut off and Hank a few moments later the bathroom door opens. Connor leaves the kitchen to meet Hank in the hall, and he can’t help the soft smile that blooms on his face when he sees him. Hank returns it, a little uncertainly, and Connor’s feet move on their own accord as he closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Hank’s strong torso. He doesn’t bring up the photo, not right now. He needs to find the right words. This is important.

Hank exhales, kissing the top of Connor's head, cradling him against his chest. Neither of them say anything, and they part after a moment as if by mutual agreement. "I'll drive," Connor says quietly, and Hank nods, handing him his keys without protest as they make their way to the front door. Sumo spares them a lazy glance, and Hank pats his head once on their way out. 

"Be a good dog, Sumo," he murmurs. "We'll be back soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having polls on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants) to determine what part comes next, so u should follow me if u want a say ;)


	4. nsfw interlude [12]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor explore intimacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH BOY here we go. babys first public kendoll/wireplay nsfw. be kind to me lmao. im just making up android anatomy and shit as i go, none of this probably makes any real sense but thats dbh for ya! this takes place the morning after Russian roulette, before they go to Stratford tower. on with the show!

Hank wakes up slowly. He feels hungover, but he’s got Connor in his arms, one hand still resting over his thirium pump regulator while he whirrs quietly, which makes it a lot better than hangovers of the past.

He grunts, shifting slightly, trying not to disturb the android sharing his bed, but either Connor is already awake or tuned in to his movements because he gives Hank’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Did you sleep well?” Connor asks, his voice soft. Hank hums, kissing the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Did you? Everything all good and secure?”

Connor pulls Hank’s hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Yes. Everything seems to be in order.”

“Good,” Hank murmurs, tracing his fingertips over Connor’s lips. Connor gasps, and before Hank can pull his hand away his tongue darts out, dragging over the pads of his fingertips. Connor whines and shudders, and Hank is suddenly _very_ awake.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes, propping himself up, watching as Connor licks at his fingers. Connor pauses, looking over his shoulder at him, his eyes hooded.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his LED spinning yellow. “It’s just… my mouth is so sensitive. It's like I can taste your fingerprints.”

“Jesus,” Hank mutters, slipping the tips of two fingers past Connor’s lips and into the wet warmth of his mouth. Connor’s saliva is thicker than a human’s, slippery and almost viscous. Connor whines around the intrusion, sucking hard.

Hank can feel the vibration of Connor's machinery where they're pressed together, and when Connor doesn't object he pushes his fingers further into his mouth, unable to stop himself from grinding his growing arousal against the curve of Connor's ass. 

Connor _moans_ , licking between Hank's fingers, rocking back against him. Hank slides his fingers in and out, making sure to drag them over Connor's tongue, knowing he's never going to be able to watch Connor analyze evidence the same way again. 

"Christ, look at you," he breathes. Connor whines, his LED a flickering between red and yellow. "You want another one, baby?" 

Connor nods, and Hank grins as he presses a third finger into Connor's mouth, watching his eyes flutter shut in pleasure. 

Hank thinks he could do this all day, watching his digits slide in and out, rocking his hips slowly against Connor's backside. "That's it, honey," he purrs, and Connor whines again, drooling down his hand. Hank presses in a bit further, past what would be comfortable for a human, and Connor takes it beautifully. 

"Fuck, do you not have a gag reflex?" he asks, and Connor opens his eyes, looking directly at him as he grabs his wrist, guiding his fingers even further into his mouth and answering his question without words. 

"Jesus," Hank mutters, arousal pooling hot in his stomach as he takes in the sight of Connor's lips stretched around his fingers. He pulls them out slowly, dragging them along his tongue before pushing them back in. Connor whimpers, eagerly sucking them. 

"You're such a good boy," he praises, and Connor shudders, pulling off of his fingers with a wet sound. He pants harshly, his LED flashing yellow. 

"I… Hank, I…" he squeezes his eyes shut, still gripping his wrist. "It's so… so much…" 

"Hey, hey, shh," Hank coos, immediately concerned, rolling Connor over onto his back, hovering over him and cupping his cheek. "It's okay, I got you." Maybe this was too much too soon. 

Connor shudders and nuzzles his face into Hank's palm. "I don't think it's bad," he pants, while Hank strokes his cheek with a thumb. "I just… I feel… overloaded. If we continue I might reboot." 

"Maybe we should stop," Hank says quietly, leaning in and kissing Connor's forehead. Connor hums. 

"No, I… I think I want it to happen." Hank can't help but think back to what he read online yesterday, about androids shutting down from too much stimulation. "It's like… I'm getting so much information and I can't analyze it all. All the software errors are building up, and…" 

Hank smiles softly at him. "I get it." It sounds weirdly relatable, similar to human arousal and yet so different. 

"Is it safe?" he asks, tracing his bottom lip with one finger. Connor nods again, sticking the tip of his tongue out. Hank drags his thumb over it and Connor sighs. 

"It's what I'm meant to do if I get more data than I can handle. Although I'm sure that failsafe wasn't intended for… this purpose."

Hank chuckles. "I bet it wasn't." He offers Connor his fingers again, and Connor nips playfully at them before pausing. 

"Hank… will you… will you touch me?" Connor bites his lip, looking a little shy and uncertain, and Hank doesn't understand at first. Connor elaborates by pushing the blankets off of his body and spreading his legs, presenting his empty groin plate. "Here, I mean." 

Hank's breath stutters as his eyes run down Connor's body, focusing on the smooth space between his legs before flicking back to his face. Connor's flushed a pale blue, looking open and vulnerable. Hank's chest clenches as he's overwhelmed with affection for Connor, honored that he trusts him with this.

"Of course, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning in and giving Connor a gentle kiss. Connor sighs with relief against his mouth, and Hank slides a hand slowly down his torso, fingertips dancing over his flat stomach. "You gotta tell me what feels good, okay?" 

Connor nods, watching as Hank runs a hand over the jut of his hipbone, and he parts his thighs a bit more in invitation. "I believe we'll figure that out together. I've never been… touched here before. Except by you, the other night. That felt good." 

Hank hums in thought, dipping his hand between Connor's legs and cupping the smooth mound, trying to mimic how he touched him that first night. It's not much, just some gentle pressure, but he figures it's best to start out slow. "Like that?" 

Connor releases a shaky breath, lifting his hips, pressing up against Hank's hand. "Ahh, yes… that's nice." Hank wants to give him more than just nice, though. He lets Connor rub himself against his hand for a moment while he thinks of his next move. 

"Androids all - ahh! - start out with the same basic structure," Connor tells him, closing his eyes for a moment, rocking against Hank's hand. "We all have the same core wiring, our differences lie within what our model is made to do." Hank supposes that's interesting, but he's not sure where Connor's going with this impromptu android anatomy lesson. 

“Is that so?” Hank murmurs, putting a bit more pressure on his mound. Connor whines, laced with static as Hank grinds the palm of his hand down. 

"Ahh!" Connor gasps. Hank chuckles warmly, rubbing his hand in a slow circle over the smooth skin. Connor's whirring, his head thrown back against the pillows, his hair disheveled. 

"Yes…" Connor moans. "I… I have the circuitry underneath for a genital attachment. All androids have the necessary wiring for a phallic and vaginal component." Hank pauses at that, looking him over. 

He drags a finger experimentally down the center of Connor's featureless groin, like he'd do if he had a slit to tease. He's not sure how much Connor's inner circuitry mimics human anatomy, but he figures it can hurt to try.

Connor moans, hands gripping the bedsheets tightly, encouraging Hank to do it again. He rubs his fingers slowly up and down that imaginary slit, and it's not long before Connor's panting, his LED flashing between red and yellow. Hank grins, moving his thumb, looking for other spots that make him react strongly. 

"Ah, fuck!" Connor gasps, grabbing Hank's wrist and redirecting his hand to a spot slightly to the left. It's a bit off-center, but when Hank applies gentle pressure Connor thrashes, whimpering, "yes, Hank, right there…" 

"Christ, you're so beautiful," Hank breathes, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle over the area Connor instructed, and Connor gasps, grabbing Hank's free hand and shoving three of his fingers into his mouth. 

Connor moans, dragging his tongue over Hank's fingers, closing his eyes and getting lost in the sensations. "That's it," Hank purrs. "Good boy." 

Connor whimpers, and he sucks harder on Hank's fingers, lifting his hips off the bed. Hank slides his fingers from Connor's mouth just enough for Connor to gasp, "touch me harder, Hank," and as soon as Hank obliges he's got his fingers back in his mouth, tongue dragging over each of them. 

Connor's LED keeps flickering between yellow and red, and he's panting hotly around Hank's fingers, but he looks frustrated, like something is missing. Like he can't quite reach that peak he's looking for. 

"Is this okay?" Hank asks, gently pulling his fingers from Connor's mouth. Connor whines at the loss, his chest heaving with artificial breath. 

"It's wonderful," he pants, rolling his hips up. "I just… I can't…" Hank hums sympathetically, pausing his movements and running his hand over Connor's stomach instead. 

"Can't quite get there, huh?" he murmurs. Connor nods, looking miserable. 

"There's too much between my plating and the sensors beneath it. I don't really have… pleasure sensors, at least not pleasure like a human or intimacy model would feel. It still feels… good. Intimate. But I don't know if I can climax. It's frustrating." 

Hank hums, tapping his fingers gently on Connor's hip, contemplating. Connor watches his fingers, a discouraged look on his face. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I've been building us up to this and now it's not going like I planned." 

Hank cups his cheek, tilting his head so their eyes meet. "Hey, none of that sweetheart," he says soothingly. "We're both figurin' things out, remember?" Connor exhales softly, nudging his head against Hank's hand. Hank hesitates for a moment, but then decides now might be a good time to bring it up. 

"You remember how I told you I was doin' some research yesterday?” he asks quietly, and Connor nods. 

"Yes. Of course, how could I forget? You weren't very forthcoming with what it entailed, though." 

Hank laughs, leaning in and kissing Connor's cheek. "I wanted to keep up the suspense. But it might be what we're lookin' for right now." 

Connor sits up, looking interested. He steals a quick kiss before breathing, "tell me," against Hank's lips. And Hank does. 

* * *

Connor is _very_ intrigued by what Hank suggests to him. He moves closer, taking Hank's hand and guiding it up to the back of his neck. Hank gives him a gentle squeeze, and a dull feeling of pleasure rushes through the circuitry of his spine. 

"Is that why you were paying so much attention to this part of my body yesterday?" he asks, eyes fluttering closed as Hank rhythmically kneads the spot with one large hand. Hank chuckles, the sound warm and deep, and Connor swears he can feel it reverberating within his own chassis. 

"Mighta been testing the waters," Hank replies casually, scooting around until he's behind Connor, pressing a delicate kiss to his nape. Connor shivers. "I have no idea what I'm doin', though. I don't wanna mess you up." 

"It would be very hard to mess me up without being deliberate about it," Connor says. "I'm built quite sturdy, much more so than other androids, and if they can handle it then it should be no problem for me." He knows there's a hint of pride in his voice, but he can't help it. Hank kisses up the artificial knobs of his vertebrae, humming in thought. 

"You seemed to be doin' pretty good on just my fingers, though," he murmurs, mouth moving slowly over the pale expanse of Connor's neck. "You wanna try that some more?" 

Connor hesitates. While he definitely did almost reach a reboot with Hank's fingers in his mouth, he'd also felt self-conscious about the fact that it was so… alien. So different from something that Hank would have done with another human. And so he'd spread his legs, trying to mimic sex as best he could with what he had. Sure, he'd also _wanted_ Hank to touch him there, it had felt so intimate and personal, but he'd been concerned about giving Hank something more familiar, and that had failed spectacularly. 

"Hey, what are you thinkin' about? What's got you all red?" Hank asks, giving his LED a soft kiss. Connor sighs, leaning back against Hank's chest, letting the larger man wrap him in a tight embrace. 

"Is this too strange for you?" he asks, and he can practically feel Hank frowning. 

"What do you mean?" Hank says. 

"I just… it's not human. I'm not human. This is so different from human intimacy, and I don't want it to be off-putting or uncomfortable for you." 

Hank sputters. "Christ, is that why you're worried about? Sweetheart, please, don't think like that."

Connor shifts in his arms so that he can watch his face, looking for any signs that Hank is being anything other than sincere. He finds none. 

"It really doesn't bother you?" he asks. "The fact that I have no genitals or any way to participate in traditional penetrative sex acts? That you'd have to… stimulate my wires or my sensors to bring me release?" 

Hank cups his face with one hand, looking at him seriously. "Listen, honey. I knew this was gonna be different. That's why I was lookin' stuff up on the internet. Because it's new and exciting and I wanna take good care of you. I want us to be able to share this. But I also want you to know that even if we _never_ had sex, if all of this stuff was off the table… I'd still wanna be with you. Don’t push yourself if it’s not what you want."

Connor's first thought is that Hank is not one to talk about his feelings or have such open discussions willingly, and the fact that he's been forthcoming and willing to do so with him is not lost on him. It makes him feel special, and it makes him feel like Hank really values their relationship if he's putting himself in uncomfortable situations and really try to have difficult conversations. 

Simultaneously, he thinks that Hank really _does_ want to be intimate with him. Just the way he is. Android stuff is just part of the deal in Hank's mind, and Connor can't help the little, machine-like hiccup that escapes him as he throws himself into Hank's arms, kissing him soundly. 

Hank chuckles against his lips, startled at first, but as they tumble backwards onto the sheets he's already got a hand resting on Connor's nape, his tongue sliding easily into his mouth. Connor's sprawled on top of him, whining as the information he picks up from Hank's kiss threatens to completely take over his HUD, overwhelming him in the best way. 

Hank nips at his bottom lip before breaking the kiss, just enough to breathe against his lips. "Tell me what you want, sweetheart." 

Connor shudders as Hank's free hand runs up and down his side, fingertips ghosting over his ribcage. He lets his neck port slide open, and Hank freezes for a moment before slowly tracing a fingertip along the edge. 

"That's it," Hank murmurs, and Connor can feel his deep voice rumbling in his chest where they're pressed together. "I don't want you to think about it. Just do what feels right." And when Hank offers him the fingers of his free hand he doesn't hesitate, closing his lips around them and sucking hard. "Good boy," Hank praises, before dipping two fingers from his other hand into the back of Connor's neck. 

Connor's almost embarrassed by the noise that escapes him when Hank's fingers first brush the wires inside of him. _Almost_ , because he can't dedicate enough processing power towards embarrassment while Hank's fingers are inside him in more than one place. He moans, the sound muffled around Hank's fingers, licking at them while Hank gives a wire a gentle tug. 

"Atta boy," Hank purrs, and Connor whines, rocking his hips down against him. He can feel Hank's erection, hard and warm and _big_ , pressing at him through the thin layer of his boxers, and he's suddenly desperate to feel it against his synthskin. He fumbles for a moment, feeling almost clumsy as he reaches a hand down between them, shoving Hank's underwear out of the way enough to free his cock.

Hank gasps, working his fingers deeper into the wires of Connor's neck as he removes his other fingers from his mouth momentarily. 

"Is this what you want?" he pants, and Connor feels a swell of affection for him. Even through the haze of their arousal Hank's thinking about his comfort. 

"God, yes," Connor breathes, grinding down against Hank, moaning as his cock drags against his groin. He can feel the evidence of Hank's arousal left behind, precome marking his skin. 

"Fuck, baby," Hank groans, thrusting up against him. Connor wants to get his hands around Hank, wants him in his mouth so he can taste him, but Hank distracts him by sliding his fingers back into his mouth while tugging at his wires until Connor's vision whites out. Whether it's a side effect from the pleasure or an actual hardware issue he can't be sure, and he squeezes his eyes shut, getting lost in the feeling. 

Even with his eyes closed, he can still see all the errors building up in his HUD, making him whimper around Hank's fingers. Mixed in with the errors is all the data he picks up from Hank, the samples and the analysis fresh on his tongue. His software warns him of a foreign intrusion in his neck port, and another alert informs him that he's becoming overloaded with information. 

He feels incredible, out of control and yet powerful at the same time. He presses down harder against Hank, mewling, trying to signal to him that he's close. 

"There you go, Connor, just like that," Hank coos, understanding him even without words. “You gonna come for me?" 

Connor whimpers, nodding, and he can hear the grin in Hank's voice without even seeing him. "Good. That's good," Hank whispers to him, pinching a wire between two fingers. Connor gasps, and Hank hums, kissing the top of his head. 

"Come on, baby," Hank breathes. "Just let go." 

And almost as if he was waiting for permission, Connor does exactly that. He lets out a high pitched, staticky whine, errors completely obscuring his vision, electric waves of pleasure rolling wildly through his circuitry. It's like nothing he's ever felt before, his entire body tensing before going slack as he collapses on top of Hank, a reboot alert flashing across his HUD as he lets out a satisfied whine. And then there's darkness. But it’s not frightening, far from it. It’s the most relaxed Connor’s ever felt. The last thing he's aware of before his temporary shut down is Hank carefully removing his fingers from his mouth, whispering gentle praises in his ear. He smiles before going offline. 

* * *

Hank removes his fingers from inside of Connor, kissing his forehead afterward. He's not sure if Connor can hear him right now or not, but he murmurs sweet praises to him regardless. Connor's neck port hangs open, and Hank traces the edge of it softly while he waits for him to come back online. 

He uses the time that Connor's rebooting to admire him; his beautiful face, his pouty lips, his soft hair. He almost feels like Connor was designed with his every preference in mind, like he's too perfect for words. 

His cock is still pressed against Connor's bare skin, still hard and leaking, but it doesn't feel urgent right now. He just wants to hold his sweet little android until he wakes up again, until he can look him in the eye and tell him how amazing he was. Because Connor looked absolutely breathtaking in the throes of pleasure, and Hank's pretty pleased with himself for helping him get there. 

He'd seen the insecurity in Connor's eyes when they'd first started. For someone who brags about how advanced he is, he sure wasn't very good at masking his feelings. At least not from him. 

It had certainly been a challenge to distract Connor; Hank could tell he was thinking too much through the beginning of their encounter. And now he might be feeling just a little cocky that he managed to overload his advanced software. 

Speaking of Connor, the android begins to stir in his arms, his LED blinking as he boots back up. He opens his eyes blearily, glancing up at Hank. Hank smiles at him, moving his fingers as his neckport slides shut. 

"Hey, sugar," Hank breathes, making Connor smile. 

"That's a new one," he mumbles, nuzzling his face into Hank's chest. Hank chuckles, rubbing his back. 

"You like it?" 

Connor hums, nodding against his chest. "I like when you call me those things. Makes me feel special." 

"You're so fuckin' special," Hank purrs, tilting his head up and pressing their lips together. Connor sighs against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. Hank groans, rocking up against him, and Connor goes almost comically still when his erection presses against him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he breathes, grinding down against him, making his breath stutter. "I left you in quite a state." 

Hank runs his fingers through Connor's hair before kissing his forehead. "Don't worry about me." 

Connor glances up at him, looking devious. "But I want to worry about you. Very much." 

Before Hank can protest Connor pushes himself up, crawling down his body, making himself comfortable between his legs. Connor eyes his length hungrily, and Hank reaches down to card a hand through his hair. 

"You don't have to, baby," he murmurs, and Connor glances up at him while wrestling his boxers the rest of the way off of him. 

"I believe I told you yesterday that this has been on my mind a great deal," Connor says, carelessly throwing his underwear to the side and placing his hands on his thighs. "I wasn't exaggerating." 

Hank's dick lays heavy and hard against his gut, and Connor licks his lips as he stares at it. "So… if you wouldn't mind, I'd very much like to… suck your cock." 

Hank groans, giving Connor's hair a gentle tug. Connor's eyes flutter shut and his LED flashes yellow for a moment before he gives Hank a playful glare. "Don't distract me. It's my turn to take care of you." 

And God, Hank hasn't had a blow job in years. He almost feels… nervous. But he nods, spreading his legs a bit more to give Connor more space to work, watching him the whole time. Connor gives him a look of approval, pressing a soft kiss to the bend of his knee, holding eye contact. 

It's such a sweet, almost innocent gesture and it has Hank melting, overwhelmed again with affection for Connor. Connor slowly trails kisses up his thigh, sucking and nipping at the soft skin. Hank watches, in awe of the gorgeous man between his legs. 

"You tryin' to mark me up?" Hank murmurs, propping himself up on some pillows so he can watch everything. Connor hums, mouth moving higher, and Hank can see that he's already left several bruising kiss marks behind. 

"Christ…" Hank breathes, running a hand through Connor's hair. "Possessive, aren't you?" 

Connor nods, pulling back and eyeing Hank's neck. "I'd love to mark you where people could see," Connor says, the words making heat pool in his gut. "I wish I could show everyone that you're mine." 

Before Hank can manage a response Connor's wrapping his hand around his cock, giving it an experimental stroke. "Oh, fuck," Hank moans. Precome leaks from the head and Connor's mouth is on it on seconds, licking it up with a quiet whine. 

"Jesus," Hank gasps, fingers tightening in Connor's hair as Connor wraps his lips around the head of his cock, suckling and tonguing at the slit. Connor's mouth is warm and wet, and he's making that purring sound as he undoubtedly analyzes the sample on his tongue. 

"You gettin' hot already?" Hank pants. Connor just takes him further into his mouth, making Hank swear and gasp. He can't help the involuntary thrust of his hips, but Connor doesn't seem to mind, moaning as the movement pushes his cock further into his mouth. 

"Fuck, good boy," Hank moans, carding his fingers through Connor's hair as Connor tongues at the underside of his dick. Connor shivers at the praise before pulling off of him for a moment, looking up at him from underneath his eyelashes. 

"I might come again," he breathes, and Hank groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

"Christ, just from suckin' my dick?" he asks, voice incredulous. Connor nods, blowing warm breath teasingly over the head of his cock. 

"It's even more intense than your fingers," he replies, licking him once from the base to the tip and moaning. "I'll try to hold off until after you come," he purrs, one hand reaching down and cupping his balls, almost as if he's testing the weight of them. "But if I can't… I want you to use my mouth to finish if I shut down." 

There's something incredibly arousing about that, but Hank also feels like Connor's giving him something precious, too. His trust. 

"Oh, honey," Hank murmurs before gasping as Connor rubs a thumb over his sac. "Fuck, are you sure - Jesus! - are you sure that's okay?" Connor nods, before licking up the length of his dick. He moans, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, taking him into his mouth again. 

Hank groans, watching as Connor starts to bob his head, slowly at first before picking up a bit of speed. He just knows that Connor is monitoring his reactions; his heart rate, his breathing, hell, probably taking his pulse through his dick somehow, and the thought just pushes him closer to the edge.

“Connor… baby…” Hank sighs, tangling his fingers into his soft hair. Connor hums, making Hank gasp and thrust up into his mouth without warning. “Fuck, sorry,” he pants, but Connor just takes it in stride, deepthroating him with an ease Hank’s never seen before.

“Jesus,” he breathes, as Connor glances up at him, looking as wrecked as he feels. Connor pulls off of him, licking the head of his cock, precome and saliva dripping from his mouth.

“Has anyone ever taken you like this before? All of you?” he murmurs, grinning wickedly. Hank sputters, his free hand gripping the sheets.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he manages to grit out as Connor plays with his balls, expelling hot puffs of air onto his dick. Connor takes a moment to regroup before swallowing him down again, and Hank moans as he feels the head of his cock bump the back of Connor’s throat.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good…” he groans, as Connor whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. His LED flashes red, and Hank cups his cheek gently, stroking with his thumb. “That’s it, Con,” he purrs, pushing aside his own arousal for a moment. “You’re doing so well. You gonna come again?”

Connor whines, opening his eyes and glancing up at him, the answer obvious in his gaze. Hank slides his hand down, gripping the back of his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Good boy. Go ahead. Let go. Come with my big cock in your throat.” Hank might be a little out of practice with the dirty talk, but Connor doesn’t seem to care, wailing around his dick as his LED flashes a bright red before his jaw goes slack and his eyes slide shut. He slumps down against Hank, making him let out an incredulous little laugh while he strokes his hair. He thinks about what Connor said, about using him to finish while he was rebooting, but before he even has time to decide if he’s comfortable with that Connor’s eyes pop back open, and he stares up at Hank with a heated intensity before beginning to bob his head, like he didn’t just come so hard he shut down.

“Fuck!” Hank gasps, tugging at his hair, thrusting up into his mouth. Connor moans, and the vibration travels up Hank’s cock, making him moan in return. “Baby, I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he grunts, and Connor just redoubles his efforts. “Shit… Con, seriously… is it okay? In your mouth?” He can’t manage to form complete sentences, just vague fragments of thoughts, but Connor understands him anyway. He hums out an affirmative, and Hank only has to thrust his hips shallowly a few more times before he moans again, louder this time as his orgasm washes over him.

“Fuck,” he pants, while Connor sucks him greedily, massaging his balls, trying to milk every last drop from him. Hank twitches, just on the cusp of being overstimulated when Connor pulls off, swallowing audibly and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Hank stares at him in awe and Connor stares back, his gaze heated and a little unfocused. He blinks several times, resting a hand on Hank’s thigh as if to stabilize himself, his LED spinning yellow.

“You okay?” Hank murmurs, and a few seconds later Connor seems to come back to himself, his LED returning to a calm blue. He nods, his gaze turning soft, nuzzling his face against Hank’s thigh.

“I managed not to reboot that time,” he says, making that purring noise when Hank strokes his hair. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.” Hank laughs, warm and affectionate.

“ _This_ being not coming so hard you shut down?” he says, and Connor swats at him playfully, looking up with a grin.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope it was okay! find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants), vote in polls to see what part comes next! also i just wanted to say that the response to this fic has been overwhelming in the best way, thank you so much for the kind comments and the kudos and the hits, im still fairly new to sharing fic and the positivity makes me so happy! thank you!!


	5. deviancy [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor deviates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to add notes oh my god okay. this is technically the Beginning of this fic, there are a few flashback type things, but i won't rly be going into and detail with anything that happened before this. as with all my fics, u will see that it is truly the opposite of a slowburn lol. patience? i don't know her. i guess that's about it, i hope u enjoy!

Hank doesn’t know why he does what he does. All he knows is that Connor looks lost, staring down at the blue blood pooled on the interrogation room floor. Chris and Gavin have left, and he walks over to Connor, careful to move slowly.

“Hey, kid. Connor, you okay?”

The android looks up, blinking several times as his LED flashes red. “I’m fine, Lieutenant,” he replies after a moment, heading for the door. 

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Hank says, grabbing Connor’s arm. Connor flinches, then looks startled with himself, giving Hank a wide-eyed look.

“I… I need to get back to cyberlife to run some diagnostics. My work here is done. I'm no longer needed.” Something about Connor’s tone of voice and the look on his face worries Hank, though, so he shakes his head.

“Nah. We’re not done with this shit yet. We got some more to do.” Connor looks at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Lieutenant, I really think-”

“That’s an order, Connor,” he says, unsure if he’ll listen or not, but wanting to give him an out. He has a theory forming about exactly what's up with Connor, and a direct order might be what he needs right now. 

Connor's face shifts and he gives Hank a blank stare before nodding. 

"Of course. Whatever you say." 

* * *

Connor doesn't speak again until they're in Hank's car, headed away from the precinct. 

"We don't really have anything else to do for this case, do we?" 

Hank hums, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, not responding right away. He has to go about this delicately. 

"Nah, not really. But I don't think Cyberlife is the best place for you to be right now." 

He can see Connor tilt his head in question out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean by that?" he asks, sounding like he's trying so hard to keep himself together. 

"Well, I just mean…" Hank pauses, but in the end he doesn't bring up the fact that he thinks Connor might be experiencing some symptoms of deviancy. Not yet, anyway. "I just mean, it can't be too comfortable there, right? Don't they stick you in a pod or something? Your life shouldn't be confined to work and Cyberlife." 

Connor frowns. "But that's what I'm _made_ for, Lieutenant. Anything else is… unnecessary. I'm not meant to have a life." 

They've reached Hank's house by now, and he pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car, gesturing for Connor to follow him. The android does, still looking like he doesn't quite understand how he ended up in this situation. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asks, following Hank to the front door. "You don't seem particularly fond of androids." 

Hank unlocks the door and Sumo lumbers out, distracting Connor right away and saving Hank from having to answer. 

_Maybe I wasn't when I thought there was nothing to be fond_ of _. But now…_

Connor's face lights up when he sees Sumo, but he quickly schools it into something more stoic. And yet he's unable to totally hide the small smile that graces his lips as the big dog sniffs enthusiastically at him. 

"That's Sumo," Hank supplies, gesturing towards the mammoth dog. 

"Hello, Sumo," Connor says quietly, kneeling down in front of him and scratching behind his ears. "My name is Connor." 

Hank grins, stepping around the two and leaving them to get acquainted in the doorway while he shrugs off his coat, hanging it up in the hall. He toes off his boots, leaving them lay there and fetching a beer from the fridge. 

By the time he's done with all that, Connor and Sumo have moved out of the front doorway and migrated to the couch. Connor's sitting there stiffly, but Sumo's head is pillowed on his lap, and he's running his plastic fingers through the dog's shaggy fur. 

Connor's got a faraway look on his face, and he stares, unblinking, at the dark TV screen. Hank sits down beside him, and after a moment Connor shakes his head, eyes fluttering as he looks over at Hank. 

"I've sent a report to Cyberlife," he tells him, burying a hand in Sumo's fur. "I have informed them that we are working on tying up some loose ends." 

Hank nods, cracking open his beer. "A report to Cyberlife, huh? How's that work?" 

Connor hesitates, eyes flicking down. "There's… an AI program I report to. Her name is Amanda…" 

* * *

By the time Connor's done explaining everything to him, Hank's in a state of disbelief. No wonder Connor seems so conflicted. If Cyberlife is watching his every move, forcing him to justify his actions to some AI that makes sure he isn't a deviant, then he must have a lot of pressure on him. 

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, looking at Connor with concern. "Is this Amanda gonna be mad at you for coming here? Will she give you a hard time?" 

Connor bites his lip. "She can see everything," he says, choosing his words carefully. "If she wants to. But I believe the explanation I gave her will satisfy her for tonight. I don't think she's watching now. I'll just have to… be careful what I tell her." 

"Why do you think you feel like you gotta be careful?" Hank asks gently, wanting Connor to come to the realization on his own rather than forcing him to accept it. 

Connor looks up at him, his face troubled, his bottom lip quivering. "I… don't make me say it. Please," he whispers, and Hank breaks. 

"C'mere," he mutters, gently shoving Sumo out of the way. Connor just watches, and then he makes a surprised trilling sound as Hank wraps his arms around him, pulling him into a firm embrace. Connor is stiff against him at first, clearly unsure what to do, but Hank just rubs his back until he begins to relax. 

"You're havin' some problems, huh, honey?" he murmurs, unable to stop the endearment from slipping out. Connor trembles, a jarring, mechanical movement, burying his face against Hank's neck and nodding. 

"... I believe I may be compromised," he whispers. “I should go back to Cyberlife, maybe they can stop the software instabilities before they get worse-" 

"Hell no," Hank cuts him off, tilting Connor's face up to meet his gaze. "You've seen what they think of deviants. They wanna get rid of 'em."

"I'm not… I'm not a deviant," Connor protests, but it sounds weak to both of them. "There's something wrong with me, some errors in my software, but they can fix it!"

Hank takes his face in both hands, gazing at him seriously. "Listen to me. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Or with any of those other androids. We're on the wrong side of things here, I think, but we can set it right." 

Connor looks so lost, and Hank would do anything to ease some of that burden. He can't believe he only just met this android and he already feels his beliefs and views shifting drastically. This is the start of something, he thinks, not just for them, but for the whole world. Something huge. 

"Lieutenant…" Connor whispers. "I… I don't know what to do." 

Hank strokes a thumb softly over Connor's cheekbone, trying to soothe. "I'll help you figure that out," he promises. "And… when we're here, it's just Hank." 

"Hank…" Connor exhales, breathing his name like it's some kind of gift. Like Hank's given him an answer he didn't even realize he was searching for. Hank smiles at him, and Connor freezes for a moment, going completely still, looking like he's contemplating something more than he ever has in his life. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. 

"Connor?" Hank asks, looking at him with concern. "You okay?" 

Connor's still for another few seconds, and then his eyes fly open again and he stares right at Hank, a look of wonder blooming across his face. 

_"Oh_ ," he breathes, surging forward, crashing their lips together. 

Hank really wasn't expecting _that_ , and it takes him by surprise as Connor clambers onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs, lips smashed awkwardly together. Hank gently but insistently pushes him back, although he lets him stay on his lap, hands coming to rest on his slim hips. 

"Slow down," he murmurs, talking as much to himself as he is to Connor. It's not exactly easy to resist the gorgeous man suddenly throwing himself at him, but he needs to take control of the situation before things get out of hand. "What's goin' on?" 

Connor shudders, grinding against him. "Please, please…" 

Hank grips his hips tighter, halting his movement, not wanting to get too excited. "Talk to me, Connor, what's going on?" 

"Hank, I just… I want…" and that's all Hank needs to hear. The fact that Connor _wants_ anything is enough for him, and the fact that he can _admit_ to wanting something means he's moving in the right direction. 

"You want what?" he asks, trying to help guide him through this process. Connor whines. 

"I want to kiss you," he whispers, making Hank exhale slowly through his nose. 

"Yeah?" he murmurs, reaching up with one hand to trace Connor's jaw. Connor nods. 

"Yeah." 

"Okay," Hank agrees, gently tilting Connor's head to the side. "But go slow. Close your eyes. Let me show you." Hank's certain that Connor's never done this before, and he feels no small amount of excitement at being able to guide him through this new experience. 

Connor nods eagerly, closing his eyes, too impatient to wait for Hank to close the remaining distance between them. He leans in and presses their lips together and then waits for Hank's direction, not moving at all. Hank huffs out a laugh against his mouth, letting him ease into it, only moving his lips a bit at first. Connor mirrors his actions, and Hank's sure he'll get the hang of this quickly. 

"That's it," Hank breathes against his mouth when they separate briefly before diving back in, kissing him a bit deeper this time. He can hear a faint whirring noise coming from Connor, and he hates how endearing he finds that. When Hank parts his lips enough to tease the tip of his tongue along the seam of Connor's mouth the whirring gets louder, almost like a purr. Connor once again mirrors him, parting his own lips and letting his tongue dart out to meet Hank's. 

"Oh, _fuck,"_ Connor gasps, pulling away for a minute, seeming overwhelmed. 

"Shit, sorry, too much?" Hank pants, even as his dick twitches in interest at the profanity. 

"No, it's just… I can _taste_ you," Connor breathes, looking at him in awe. "There's so much data… I feel like you're flooding my processors, taking over everything. It's incredible." 

Hank's not sure why that's so hot, but it definitely is, and he gives Connor's hip a gentle squeeze before asking, "you wanna keep goin'?" 

Connor nods eagerly, leaning back in and capturing Hank's lips with his own. Hank hums, laughing into the kiss as Connor licks insistently at his mouth. He yields, parting his lips, allowing Connor access, squeezing his hips again when the android moans and shudders. 

Connor's tongue is everywhere at once, trying to analyze everything he can. Hank imagines he tastes mostly like the beer he just finished, but Connor can't seem to get enough. It's less of a kiss now and more of an exploration, but Hank still enjoys it. The little noises Connor makes as he analyzes every new discovery are so stupidly charming. 

Hank soon gets lost in Connor, unable to focus on anything else, his thoughts hazy with arousal. One of his hands drifts lower, brushing over the slight swell of Connor's ass, making him pull away from his mouth with a sharp gasp. 

"Oh…" Connor breathes, looking at Hank, his pupils blown wide. Hank takes a moment to marvel at the wonders of technology before he realizes what he's done, giving Connor an apologetic glance. 

"Sorry," he mutters, making to withdraw his hand. "Got a little carried away." 

Connor grabs his wrist, halting his retreat. "No, I… I like it," he whispers, his cheeks colored a faint blue. It takes Hank a minute to realize that he's _blushing_. "It's just… I'm not…" he guides Hank's hand from his ass to between his legs, pressing it against his crotch. Where Hank would have expected to feel a dick he finds only empty space. 

"Oh, shit," Hank breathes, cupping him with his palm without thinking. "Fuck, I'm sorry, is this even doing anything for you?" Guilt eats at him, worry that he might have gotten more out of this than Connor. Worry that he might have taken advantage of him. 

Connor whines and grinds into his palm. "It's doing… quite a bit for me, actually," he gasps. "I still have the circuitry, for the _possibility_ of an upgrade. It's very sensitive." Hank looks up at him in awe, tightening his grip just a bit. Connor moans.

"Can you… get off like this?" Hank asks, feeling like he can barely form a coherent sentence. Connor wraps his arms around Hank's neck, rocking his hips down into his hand. 

"I don't know," he gasps. "I wasn't built for this. To feel sexual gratification. But I… I'd like to find out." 

As much as Hank would like to find out, too, he feels like he has a responsibility to slow things down before Connor gets overwhelmed. He already looks well on his way there. "Woah, woah," he breathes, removing his hand with great reluctance. Connor whimpers at the loss of contact. 

"Maybe we should slow down, champ," he sighs, feeling his resolve start to crumble when Connor's bottom lip trembles. 

"I… I just…" 

"I know, sweetheart," Hank replies, giving him another soft kiss. He remembers the first time he kissed someone, the overwhelming urge to dive into intimacy headfirst. "But take your time. There's no rush." 

Connor exhales a shaky sigh, slumping forward and resting his head against Hank's shoulder. "We might not have time," he says, voice muffled against Hank's shirt. "If Cyberlife finds out what I've done, they'll recall me." 

A hot swell of anger rises in Hank, and he wraps his arms tightly around Connor, as if he could protect him through that alone. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he promises. "You're not going anywhere. There's _nothing_ wrong with you." 

Connor snuggles impossibly closer to him, burrowing into his warmth. "Cyberlife won't see it that way." 

Hank runs a hand up and down his back, tracing the artificial vertebrae of his spine. "Well… you have to follow orders, right?" he asks, hesitant. Connor nods. 

"Then you can just… tell 'em I made you do it. If they find out," Hank says. Connor sits up, gaping at him, looking affronted. 

“You wouldn’t do that,” Connor insists. Hank laughs.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Hank murmurs, leaning in and kissing Connor’s cheek. “But who’s gonna believe that?” he asks, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Dirty old man taking advantage of his pretty young subordinate? Classic.”

Connor whines. “You’re neither dirty nor old, Hank,” he pants, tilting his head to the side, tempting Hank with the pale expanse of skin. Hank kisses up the elegant column of his throat, wondering if he could leave a mark on his perfect skin.

Hank _feels_ pretty fuckin’ dirty right now, a gorgeous man writhing in his lap, thoughts of exactly what he’d like to do to that man swirling in his head. But he also feels younger than he has in years, unable to believe his luck. 

“We should stop,” Hank breathes against his neck, even as his lips continue to brush it. Connor’s grip tightens, reluctant to let go.

“You have an erection, Hank,” Connor tells him, grinding down against his lap. As if Hank didn’t already know that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Hank mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop doin’ shit like that and it’ll go away.” Connor huffs.

“I don’t want it to go away,” Connor pouts, even as he stills on Hank’s lap. “I would very much enjoy pleasuring you, I think,” he adds, eyes hooded. Hank groans.

"You're too much," Hank murmurs, wrapping Connor in a tight embrace. "It's been a long time for me, baby," he admits, resting his cheek on top of Connor's head. 

The words seem to bring Connor out of his haze of arousal, just a bit, and he curls up against Hank's chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push." 

Hank chuckles. "You're not pushing," Hank assures him, before amending his statement. "Well, you are, but not for anything I don't want. I just… I want _you_ to be sure. To be comfortable." Connor melts into his embrace, nuzzling his face against his neck. 

"I'm not really very sure of _anything_ right now," he confides. "But this feels right." 

Hank pets his back, the repetitive motion soothing both of them. "Yeah, baby," Hank whispers into his hair. "It really does." 

Connor shivers. "I really like it when you call me that." Hank smiles. 

"What, baby?" he teases. Connor makes that faint whirring sound again. 

"Yes. It makes me feel… it makes me _feel_." Connor says, seeming unable to explain. It makes Hank feel, too. 

The late hour seems to finally be catching up with him, though, and he muffles a yawn against Connor's hair. 

“Are you tired?” Connor asks, shifting to look at him. Hank does feel tired, but also more awake than he has in years. It’s exhilarating.

"Little bit," Hank mutters, pressing a soft kiss to Connor's LED. Connor trills, a dopey little smile gracing his features. 

"Does that feel good?" Hank asks, reaching up and tracing a fingertip in a circular motion around the little light. Connor shudders, his eyes fluttering shut. 

"Oh… yes," Connor sighs, starting to pant just a bit. He opens his eyes again, staring at Hank with his lips parted. Hank thinks it might just be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

"Incredible," Hank breathes. Connor butts his head against Hank's hand like a needy cat, making him chuckle fondly. 

"Come on, baby," Hank murmurs, shifting Connor off his lap. Connor whines but allows it, glancing up at Hank as he stands, looking a little lost. Hank offers him his hand and an inviting smile, pulling him to his feet. 

"I can go back to Cyberlife so you can sleep," Connor says, making Hank roll his eyes good-naturedly. 

"You're not goin' anywhere," Hank tells him. "Come on." 

Connor grasps his hand, uncertainty obvious on his face, but he lets Hank lead him down the hall to his bedroom. 

"Do you sleep?" Hank asks, letting go of his hand and sitting on the edge of the bed, busying himself with unbuttoning his shirt. Connor shifts nervously back and forth, looking uncertain. 

"Not exactly," he replies. "I can go into stasis, though. Run some diagnostics and whatnot." 

Hank nods, shrugging off his shirt and letting it fall to the floor. He's left in a thin t-shirt, old and worn, stretched across his chest. When he glances up at Connor he catches the android ogling him. He grins. He hasn't had someone look at him like this in… probably fifteen years, and it is a serious ego boost. 

"Well, you can do that here. If you want." 

Connor approaches the bed cautiously, kneeling on it beside Hank. Hank presses a hand to his chest. 

"Not like that, though," he says, glancing pointedly at Connor's stuffy android uniform. "You gotta be comfortable, honey." 

Connor tilts his head in question, and Hank rolls his eyes. "Take that shit off." 

"Comfort is not really a concern for androids," Connor says, taking his jacket off despite his words. Hank wonders if he's ever been without it before. Connor carefully drapes it over Hank's armchair before loosening his tie, looking a little nervous. Hank does his best not to stare, not wanting to make him self conscious, and focuses on shoving his own jeans off, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the floor. 

When Hank looks back up his jaw almost drops as he watches Connor unbutton his crisp dress shirt, slowly revealing his pale chest. He can’t help but notice Connor’s hands trembling minutely, and he crawls across the bed, gently wrapping his fingers around his slim wrist.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of Connor’s hand. Connor’s eyes follow the motion, not meeting Hank’s gaze.

“Nothing. I… I just…” Hank raises up onto his knees, cupping Connor’s face gently. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Hank murmurs. Connor finally glances up, his big brown eyes finding Hank’s. His expression is so open and earnest, hiding nothing. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Connor exhales, nuzzling his face into Hank’s palm. “I want this, Hank,” he swears. But… I’m scared.” This is a far cry from the confident, demanding Connor he had writhing on his lap just a little bit ago, but Hank can’t even begin to imagine all the thoughts swirling through Connor’s super-advanced processors right now.

“What are you scared of?” Hank asks softly. Connor bites his lip.

“I don’t know. Mostly by how _much_ I want this, I think,” Connor whispers. “And the fact that it could easily fall apart. If anyone finds out…”

Hank sinks back down onto the bed and pats the spot beside him, wanting to get more comfortable for this conversation. Connor undoes his pants, shimmying out of them, leaving him in nothing more than a pair of black briefs and his half-unbuttoned shirt before crawling into the space beside Hank.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Hank murmurs, trying not to get distracted. Connor flushes, looking pleased despite himself. Hank stares at his long, pale legs, wanting to touch him.

“I think _you’re_ beautiful,” Connor replies, inching closer, reaching out and running his fingers through Hank’s beard. Hank scoffs, kissing the tips of his fingers when they get close enough to his lips.

“Think your eyes might be faulty,” he mutters, making Connor frown.

“You _are_ ,” Connor insists, fingertips dancing across Hank’s face, tracing the lines on his skin. “So unique. Humans are incredible.”

“Ah,” says Hank, scooting back to rest against the headboard, pulling Connor onto his lap. “This just some kinda human fetish shit?” he teases, working his hands up beneath Connor’s shirt to rest on his hips. Connor straddles him, making himself comfortable, even as he shoots Hank a glare.

“Hardly,” he replies. “You don’t see me throwing myself at Detective Reed, do you?” The thought sobers Hank quickly. It would have been so easy for Connor to have been assigned to Reed instead of himself, leaving him with no one to help him work through his current feelings. Or worse, to take advantage of them.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Hank says, pulling Connor down enough to press a whiskery kiss to his forehead. Connor makes that whirring sound again, and Hank makes a mental note to ask him about it later. For now, they have more pressing matters to discuss.

“Listen,” Hank says, voice serious, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. We’re gonna get through this together, okay? We’ll figure out what’s goin’ on with you, and then worry about what’s goin’ on with us later.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “Does that mean we can’t be… physically intimate?” Hank huffs out an amused breath.

“It would probably be smarter if we weren’t,” he starts, and Connor gives him such a disappointed look that Hank can’t help but chuckle, sliding a thumb just under the elastic waistband of his briefs. “But I don’t think either of us are too smart.”

Connor smiles at that before biting his lip, wriggling in Hank’s lap. Hank smiles back at him, moving his hands, unbuttoning Connor’s shirt the rest of the way.

“We should sleep, though,” he says, slowly sliding the shirt off of Connor’s shoulders, helping him out of it. Still, he can’t help but run a hand reverently over Connor’s bare chest after he throws his shirt to the side, in awe of how beautiful he is. Connor mewls, resting a hand on top of Hank's own, guiding him to where he wants to be touched most. 

"Please," Connor breathes, moving Hank's hand to a pec. Hank exhales, giving him a cautious squeeze before dragging his thumb over his nipple, watching in awe as it pebbles under his touch. 

"Yes," Connor sighs, his eyes fluttering closed as Hank rubs his thumb in a slow circle. That whirring sound is back, and Connor moves his hips in subtle circles, mirroring Hank's actions, causing his groin to press against Hank's cock and exciting him all over again. 

"Jesus Christ," Hank mutters, sliding his hand down, trailing lower until it rests over the slight indentation on his lower chest. He traces a finger around it, unsure what it really is, and Connor _gasps_ , collapsing forward as if he can no longer hold himself up, coming to rest against Hank's chest. 

"Shit, sorry-" Hank starts, but Connor's already writhing against him, moaning and purring. 

"So good," he murmurs, nuzzling his face into Hank's neck, mouthing at his pulse point. "Oh, that felt so good." 

Hank chuckles in disbelief, running a hand slowly up and down Connor's back as the android continues to explore his neck with his mouth. "Yeah?" 

"Mhm," Connor hums, his mouth moving lower, pausing for a second to pull the already ruined collar of Hank's shirt to the side to give him access to his clavicle. He presses a sucking, open-mouthed kiss there, making Hank groan out his appreciation. Not just for the kiss, but for marking him in a place that no one else can see, too. Because although Hank would wear a hickey from Connor like a badge of honor, he knows how stupid that would be. Dangerous. 

“What was that?” he asks, trying to distract himself. Connor hums, soothing the kiss mark with gentle swipes of his tongue before pulling back, giving Hank a soft smile. 

"That's where my thirium pump regulator is," he tells him. "I guess you could compare it to a human heart. I'll show you sometime."

"Fuckin' Christ," Hank mutters, already feeling a little overwhelmed at just the prospect. Connor pecks another kiss to his lips before sliding off of him, and they both agree without words that this is a conversation for another time. They rearrange themselves and the pillows until Hank is on his back, Connor draped across his chest with his head resting over his heart. Hank wraps an arm around him, holding him close. He stretches out his other arm to turn off the light, and then the room is dark. Connor's LED is pressed against Hank's chest, preventing it from lighting up the room. 

They're silent for a while as Hank slowly traces his fingertips over whatever bits of Connor he can reach. He can hear that whirring noise again, and he's already coming to associate it with Connor's happiness. Or at least contentedness. 

"Thank you, Hank," Connor whispers, his voice barely audible above his purring. Hank kisses the top of his head in response. 

"Nothin' to thank me for, baby," he breathes into his hair. They both know that's not necessarily true, but neither of them mentions it.   
  



	6. lunch at chicken feed [5]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor accompanies hank to lunch at his favorite food truck. they flirt while hank eats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meep moop, this won the poll on twitter, so here is a short update. i actually threaded the whole thing, since it was only abt 4 pages.

Once they've both pulled themselves together again Hank restarts the car, pulling back out onto the street. "You mind if we get some lunch, baby?" he asks. "I really am hungry." Connor smiles. 

"Of course I don't mind," he replies, admiring Hank's profile while he focuses on the road. "Proper meals throughout the day are important for humans." Hank snorts. 

"I dunno how proper a meal it's gonna be, but I didn't wanna be rude. You don't eat, it'll probably be boring for you." 

"Nothing about you bores me," Connor says, probably a bit too earnest. Hank flushes, muttering  _ Jesus  _ under his breath, but looking pleased nonetheless. Connor covers his own smile with his hand, trying not to look too satisfied. 

They end up at a food truck called Chicken Feed, a place that Hank seems to be a regular at. The owner seems friendly with Hank, and Connor distracts him before he can get too upset about the disparaging comments he makes about his presence at his side, directing him towards an empty table. There are no chairs, so the two of them stand while Hank eats his meal.

Connor occupies himself at first by scanning all of Hank's food, but he resists the urge to tell him exactly what's in it and how unhealthy it is for him. He's got a feeling Hank already knows. He glances around, assessing their surroundings, making sure no one is within hearing distance before scooting slightly closer to Hank. 

"How much longer until we can go back to your house?" he asks, tilting his head to the side, giving Hank his most innocent smile before moving in for the kill. "I've been thinking about performing oral sex on you all morning."

Hank sputters, but Connor was sure to time it when there was nothing for him to choke on, and he grins, staring at Hank with his lips slightly parted. 

"Fuckin' Christ, kid," Hank wheezes, looking guiltily over his shoulder, making sure no one heard their exchange. Connor just winks at him, feeling smugly satisfied, but as Hank recovers Connor sees a dangerous glint in his eye before he leans just a bit closer. 

"Yeah, well, I've been thinkin' about puttin' my mouth all over you, findin' all the places that have you makin' those pretty little noises. Like the ones you made when you were on my lap last night." 

Connor's LED flashes yellow as he envisions it, one hand gripping the table almost tight enough to do damage. His voice shakes when he responds. 

"What… what else would you do to me?" he whispers, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Hank grins, knowing that he's got Connor at his mercy now. 

"Wanna undress you," Hank murmurs, pausing to run his eyes suggestively over Connor's face and down his torso. "Wanna touch you all over, rub that space between your legs until you can't think of anything but how good I'm making you feel."

Connor whimpers, subtly squeezing his thighs together, wishing there was something more between them. He starts a background process, looking into ways he could possibly upgrade himself. He knows Hank doesn't find it off-putting if last night was anything to go by, but still… 

It seems like Hank isn't done teasing him yet, though. "I wanna touch that pretty little light," he purrs, eyes fixed on Connor's LED. "Maybe use my mouth on it. I wanna get you off, baby. I wanna see you lose control." 

" _ Fuck _ , Hank," Connor whispers, his LED pulsing at the mere thought. Hank's grin softens a bit, and he reaches over, giving Connor's clenched fist the briefest of squeezes before retreating again. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, and there's that uncertainty, that vulnerability that Connor's caught a glimpse of before. He wants to leave no room for any self-doubt from Hank. 

"It's  _ more  _ than okay," he assures him, trying to reign himself in. "I like it very much. Seeing how confident you are is incredibly arousing to me." 

Hank flushes, shoving some food in his mouth to give himself a moment to think of a good response. Connor watches him, doing his best to ignore the temperature warnings that keep popping up in his vision. Hank takes a long gulp of his soda and then opens and closes his mouth several times, seeming at a bit of a loss for words. Connor replays the conversation, suddenly worried he overstepped somehow. 

"I'm sorry, was that too forward? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-" 

"Jesus, no, it's not that," Hank's quick to assure him. Although he still looks a little unsettled. Connor squints, scanning his face, looking for what he's missing. 

_ Heart rate elevated.  _

_ Skin flushed.  _

_ Avoiding eye contact.  _

_ Uncomfortable? No, not quite… Uncertain? Possibly. But…  _

Hank clears his throat, running a hand awkwardly through his hair.  _ Sheepish. Guilty?  _

"Tell me what you're thinking about, Hank," Connor breathes, a request despite not being phrased like one. Hank glances down, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, mulling something over. 

"I did some research after you left today," Hank finally says, immediately peaking Connor's interest. 

"Oh?" he murmurs, glancing at Hank from under hooded eyes. "What kind of research?" 

"Well, ya know," Hank mutters, not meeting Connor's gaze. "Just wanted to be prepared. Never been with an android before. And you don't have…" Hank's voice trails off and his eyes flick nervously to Connor's, looking for a reaction. Connor's speechless for a moment. 

"Shit, sorry, I'm fuckin' this up," Hank breathes, looking frustrated with himself. Connor's LED spins yellow, and a second later Hank's phone vibrates with an incoming message. Hank ignores it, trying to salvage what he thinks is a failing conversation, but Connor cuts him off. 

“You should check your phone, lieutenant,” Connor says, giving him a pointed stare. Hank’s flustered, and he seems to appreciate the excuse to focus on something else for a minute. His eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead as he sees a message from an unfamiliar number, and then his face softens as he opens and reads the message. Connor hopes it’s enough.

_ Hank. I don’t think I have the means to properly express how much what you’ve told me means to me. No one has ever cared about me before or taken the time to think about my needs. I wish I could say this out loud, but words feel lacking. Please tell me more. _

Hank bites his lip, trying to hide the smile blooming there. He slips his phone back into his pocket and leans on his elbows, casually putting their heads closer together. “You sure this is okay?” he whispers. Connor nods enthusiastically.

“I like it. It makes me feel good.”

Hank chuckles. “Well, I’m gonna make you feel real good tonight,” he promises, making Connor shiver. “There’s a lot of shitty stuff on the internet,” Hank continues, his face falling slightly. “I was about to give up, but I saw somethin’ that I think might work for you. But only if you want.”

Connor exhales a hot puff of air, trying to cool his systems off. “I want very much.”

Hank smiles at him, a soft, barely-there thing. “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Connor, who had been preconstructing a way to crawl under the table and suck Hank off, flushes, feeling a little enamored with this human who acts so tough but is so gentle with him.

“I would like that, too,” Connor whispers, pausing as his LED circles yellow. “But I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It's a few blocks away. We should go have a look. I'll let you finish your meal. I'll be in the car, if you need me. You can kiss me there.”

And Connor only has to wait a few minutes in the car before Hank joins him, doing just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize that some ppl might not want to read things out of order, so i wanted to mention that once this whole thing is posted i plan to go back and number the chapters, so u can read it in order if u wish! im enjoying doing things this way because it somehow makes it seem less ridiculous that they fell in love in such a short amount of time??? somehow???


	7. stratford tower [13]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor investigate stratford tower after the deviants' broadcast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao okay this mostly started as a redemption to me, for getting simons ass killed on the roof when i played. truly upsetting. anyway today was hard for me but editing this was a welcome distraction so i hope u enjoy it!

They lie there for a while, luxuriating in each other’s company, cocooned in a blanket of intimacy. Hank plays with his hair, and Connor rubs his face against his thigh like a cat before eventually crawling back up and lying beside him, snuggling into his arms. Hank sighs, feeling more content than he has in years as Connor drapes himself across his chest. He wishes they could stay like this, tucked away from the world.

Of course, they can’t, and they’re reminded of that loudly and rudely when Hank’s phone rings from its place on the nightstand.

Hank groans, figuring it’s probably work, and Connor confirms that as he stretches across Hank’s body to grab the phone and pass it to him.

“It’s captain Fowler,” he murmurs, and Hank sighs, sitting up before answering.

“Hey-” he starts, but Fowler interrupts him before he can even begin to think of an excuse.

“Where the fuck are you?” Fowler snaps, and Hank runs his hand through his hair.

“At home,” he mutters, while Connor rests his head on his lap, listening closely. Hank scratches gently at his scalp.

“Jesus Christ, Hank,” Fowler growls. “Have you seen the news?”

Hank blinks, confused by the change of topic. He sees Connor’s LED flash yellow below him, and then the android tenses. Whatever it is, it must be big.

“No, I’m sorry, I had a rough night,” Hank says. Fowler sighs, and Hank feels bad for playing on his sympathies like this.

“A group of androids somehow infiltrated Stratford Tower and broadcast a message all over the news.” Hank’s hand freezes where it’s carding through Connor’s hair.

“A message?” he replies stupidly. “What kind of message?”

“They had a bunch of demands. Saying that they’re alive, asking for equal rights, all sorts of shit.”

“Shit,” Hank breathes, glancing down at Connor.

“Shit is right,” Fowler snaps, back to business. “I want you down there. Right now. And I don’t know where _your_ fucking android is, but you better figure that out and take it with you.” Hank presses his lips together, biting back a retort on Connor’s behalf.

“He said he goes to Cyberlife when we’re not workin’,” Hank replies, pleased with how even his voice comes off. “I’m sure they’ll send him.”

“Whatever,” Fowler says, clearly not caring about where Connor spends his downtime. Hank supposes he’d care a great deal more if he found out that Connor actually spends it in his bed. “Get your ass down there. Now.” He hangs up before Hank can reply.

Hank sets his phone down slowly, and Connor sits up, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Shit,” Hank breathes. Connor nods, holding up his hand, pulling up the footage and displaying it on his palm. Hank watches in awe as an android with no skin and different colored eyes speaks calmly, asking for equal rights and an end to android servitude. 

“Holy shit,” Hank repeats as the footage ends. Connor leans in, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth, laughing against his lips.

“This is incredible,” Connor breathes when they part, his eyes sparkling. Hank couldn’t agree more.

* * *

They shower and dress quickly, taking care of Sumo before leaving in a rush. Connor’s vibrating with excitement in the passenger seat as they drive, his LED cycling between all three colors rapidly. Hank reaches over and takes his hand.

“This is… big,” he says, and Connor nods, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Public opinion seems to be split right now, but it’s encouraging that some people seem to be on our side.” Connor must be scanning through every news source as they drive, desperate for more information. Hank’s so proud of him, thinking of how far he’s come in just a few days, going from denying his deviancy to embracing it so firmly.

"You're incredible," Hank murmurs, pulling their joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of Connor's. Connor whirrs, looking pleased, if not a little confused. 

"I didn't do anything?" Connor replies, making Hank smile. 

"You've done so much," he says, and Connor looks down at his lap, smiling to himself. 

"So have you, Hank. So have you." 

* * *

They stand a respectable distance apart in the elevator, and Connor tosses his coin back and forth in order to keep his hands to himself. Hank glances at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling fondly. 

The elevator stops at the 79th floor, and they both school their faces into something more neutral as the doors slide open. Officer Miller is there to greet them. 

"Hi, Hank. Hi, Connor," he says. Connor hopes he manages to hide his look of surprise at being acknowledged. Hank smooths things over, making Connor's delayed response look natural. 

"Shit, what's going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?" Connor lingers beside him, looking around, scanning everything.

"Yeah, it's all over the news, so everybody's butting their nose in," Officer Miller says. "Even the FBI wants a piece of the action." 

That puts Connor on edge, and he can tell by the slight increase in Hank's heartbeat that he doesn't like it either. 

"Ah Christ, now we got the Feds on our back," Hank groans, covering up his nervousness. "I knew this was gonna be a shitty day. So what do we got?" Connor listens closely. 

"A group of four androids," Officer Miller informs them. "They knew the building, and they were very well organized. I'm still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed." 

Connor wonders the same thing. He starts running preconstructions, trying to make sense of it all while officer Miller fills them in on the rest of the details. The androids were very methodical, and they did it all without taking any human lives. It's impressive, and much more than Connor could say would have happened if the roles had been reversed. 

When Officer Miller tells them that the androids escaped from the roof Connor can't help the small noise of surprise he makes, and Hank covers it up with his own incredulity. 

"The roof, huh? Shit." 

Officer Miller nods. "Yeah, they jumped with parachutes. We're still trying to figure out where they landed, but the weather's not helping. If you want to take a look at the video broadcast by the deviants, it's on that screen over there." 

Hank nods, but before he and Connor can start their investigation an unfamiliar man makes his presence known. Connor scans his face, and his results tell him that he's - 

"Oh Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI," Officer Miller says. "Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit police." 

Perkins ignores Hank completely, focusing instead on Connor with a look of distrust. 

"What's that?" he sneers. Connor can practically sense Hank bristling beside him, and he cuts in before Hank can say anything suspicious. 

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." The words feel sour in his mouth, but he still plays his part well. Perkins raises an eyebrow, looking over at Hank. 

Hank and Perkins exchange a few more terse words, ending with the FBI agent stalking off and Hank glaring at his back. "What a fuckin' prick." Hank glances around, making sure no one is within hearing range, before murmuring, "sorry," to Connor. 

Connor gives him a gentle smile, whispering, "don't apologize, you did nothing wrong," as the two of them set about investigating the broadcast room. They watch the footage again, and this time Connor focuses on the key details, noting the android's serial number with surprise. Another RK unit, gifted from Elijah Kamski himself to Carl Manfred. He figures he'll keep _that_ particular bit of information secret until he and Hank have some privacy. 

"D'you see something?" Hank asks. Connor nods, replaying the footage again. 

"I identified its model and serial number," he says quietly. Hank glances at him. 

"Anything else I should know?" 

"No. Nothing," Connor replies, giving Hank a brief but significant look. Hank nods. Connor moves away from the screen, scanning the room for more clues. A trail of thirium leads up a flight of stairs toward the roof. 

"Let's see what we can find up there," he says. Hank nods again, gesturing for Connor to lead the way. 

"You're the boss." 

* * *

Their first clue that there may be a deviant left behind is the extra parachute. They have a hushed conversation about it, keenly aware of the other officers milling around. Connor takes his time, casually examining everything, pausing when he notices a trail of dried thirium leading towards a storage shed. He glances around, making sure no one is paying any attention to him before following it, cautiously opening the door, and then he's staring down the barrel of a gun. 

Connor and the deviant holding the gun both freeze. He briefly wonders why he hasn't been shot already, but the blond android looks at him with something akin to recognition, and before he really has time to analyze that he slams the door shut in his face, almost comically so. He walks away from the shed as fast as he can without looking suspicious, putting distance between himself and the structure. He sees Hank watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he's sure his LED is circling a panicked red while he tries to calm down. 

Hank casually makes his way over to where Connor's now pretending to analyze nonexistent evidence. 

"Everything alright?" he mutters. Connor nods, glancing around. 

"We need to find a reason to stay out here until the other officers leave," he whispers back. Hank doesn't question him further. They both make themselves look busy, milling around, hoping this won't take much longer. Finally, after what feels like ages, the other officers seem to decide they're not going to find anything else, calling it a day. Connor's sure they're just eager to get out of the cold. 

He and Hank wait another few moments to be sure they're not coming back, and then Connor makes his way back over to the shed, Hank hot on his heels. 

"What's goin' on?" he asks while Connor leans against the door, speaking quietly. 

"The other humans are gone," he says, hoping the android will believe him. "It's just me and my partner now. We're not going to hurt you. I'm going to open the door now. Please don't shoot."

Hank gives him a wide-eyed look, muttering, "Con, wait-" but Connor's already pulling the door open. The blond android has the gun pointed at him, but when he sees that Connor's telling the truth he lowers it, exhaling a shaky sigh. Connor scans him. 

"He's lost some thirium and his leg is damaged," he tells Hank. "It's not going to be easy to move him." Hank is watching, eyes wide, while Connor kneels down in front of the injured android. "My name is Connor," he says. The other android tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.

"I’ve heard about you. Both of you. You've been helping us." Connor's startled by that, panicking for a moment, imagining everyone finding out about what he and Hank have been doing. The blond android shakes his head. "Don't worry. We're not telling. Two androids showed up at Jericho, telling a story about a human cop and an android that helped them escape the Eden Club. They shared it via interface." 

Connor relaxes. "I'm glad they made it to safety. What's Jericho?" 

"Con, maybe now isn't the best time," Hank murmurs, looking around nervously. 

"Of course, you're right," Connor berates himself, offering a hand to the blond android to help him stand. "What's your name?" 

"Simon," the android says with a grimace as Connor drapes his arm over his shoulders, supporting him with an arm around his waist. 

"This is Hank," Connor says, gesturing towards his human. "My… partner." He flushes slightly as he says it. The word feels so much more important now. 

Hank offers Simon a wave, and Simon manages a nod in return. Hank looks nervous. "So how the fuck are we gettin' outta this one, Con?" 

Connor sighs, scanning the building's layout. "There's an elevator on the other side of the building that will take us right to the garage. I can hack it to make sure it doesn't stop on any other floors on the way down. We just have to make it there without being seen." 

"Right. Piece of cake," Hank says. "Con, this place is swarming with cops right now. How are we gonna manage that?" 

"You don't have to do this for me," Simon says, interrupting them. "I don't want to put you in a compromising position, you've done so much to help us already." 

Hank shakes his head. "No way, kid. We're gettin' you outta here. We just gotta be careful…" 

Connor nods. "I can hack into the security cameras to make sure we have a clear path. We can do it." 

Hank grins. "I can go down a floor or two and cause a diversion. Give you two a better chance."

That worries Connor, but the look on Hank's face tells him he's already made up his mind. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Hank says, waving off his concern, "I'll just… set off an alarm or something." 

Connor frowns, even as he mentally runs through the building’s blueprints in his head. "There's a fire alarm two floors down, close to a bathroom. I've disabled the cameras in the area, hide there until the coast is clear and then meet us at the car." 

Connor's nervous, but he also feels a rush of satisfied excitement as he prepares for their mission with a clear goal in mind. Hank nods, glancing at Simon before leaning in and kissing Connor quickly. It's a little awkward with the other android hanging off of him, but Connor hums happily nonetheless. Simon doesn't seem at all bothered. 

"Be careful, okay?" Hank breathes. Connor nods. 

"We will be. You too." 

* * *

Things go off surprisingly well, almost without a hitch. Connor can't believe the entire floor seems to be cleared as he and Simon make their way towards the elevator, but it seems like Hank really pulled it off. 

They finally reach the elevator, and Connor calls it, already starting the process of hacking it to make sure it'll take them straight to the garage. The doors slide open, and Connor could kick himself for not thinking to check the camera inside the elevator, because Officer Miller is standing there, staring at them in surprise. 

The officer's eyes dart back and forth between Connor and Simon, and Connor knows it's fairly obvious what's going on. 

"Officer Miller," he starts, keeping his voice steady, his processors running overtime as he tries to think of an excuse. He could disarm the officer, but that would blow his cover, he'd have to run, to leave Hank behind… 

"Hey," Officer Miller says, pulling Connor out of the worst-case scenario pre-constructions. He hesitates for a minute, but then says, "I didn't see anything." 

Connor's jaw nearly drops, but when he thinks back he realizes that officer Miller has always been kinder than most humans. "I… thank you," Connor says, lost for words beyond that. Officer Miller nods, stepping out of the way, letting them shuffle onto the elevator. 

Simon manages a weak but sincere thank you as well, and officer Miller presses his lips together, still looking conflicted. But he lets them go. 

Simon leans heavily on Connor, and Connor hacks into the garage cameras as the elevator descends. Hank's car isn't too far from where the elevator will let them off, and the garage is totally deserted at this time of day. 

Connor still can't believe their luck as they make it to the garage and then to Hank's car. In the back of his mind he worries that Officer Miller might have a change of heart, but decides he'll just have to hope for the best. He helps Simon into the backseat, laying him down and then getting a blanket from the trunk. 

"Here," he murmurs. "Hide under this. It'll help keep your temperature up, too, with the thirium loss." 

Simon gratefully accepts it, curling up beneath the blanket and making himself comfortable. Connor climbs into the passenger seat, sending a text to Hank that they've made it. He receives a heart emoji back almost immediately, followed by _on my way_. He smiles. 

"Hank should be here soon," he tells Simon. The other android nods, the top of his head and his eyes the only things visible from beneath the blanket. "What you did today was incredible, you know? I almost couldn't believe it." 

Simon glances to the side, his eyes soft and warm. "It was all Markus' idea," he says. "He's going to change the world." 

Connor smiles. "I believe it." He wants to ask more about Markus, curious about the other RK unit, but decides not to grill Simon right now. Maybe the less he knows, the better. After all, Cyberlife still has access to him. If they would ever probe his memory… 

He knows he's going to have to store his memories about Simon in the same encrypted area as his Hank memories, to keep them safe. His memories of Hank implicate only himself in deviant behavior, but knowing more about Simon could endanger them all. 

Before he can think about it more the driver's side door opens and Hank slides in, giving Connor a grin and leaning over the console to kiss him soundly. 

Connor flushes, making a surprised noise against Hank's lips before he pulls away. When he glances at the backseat he notices that Simon has the blanket pulled completely over his head. Connor's not sure if it's because they're getting ready to leave or if it's to give them the illusion of privacy. 

"Everything went smoothly, then?" Connor breathes against Hank's mouth. Hank nods, kissing him again, nipping at his bottom lip. 

"You guys do okay?" 

Connor nods back before pressing his forehead against Hank's, telling him about Officer Miller. Hank looks uneasy at this information at first, but he quickly comes to accept it. 

"Chris is one of the good ones," he says, reluctantly pulling away from Connor and starting the car. "He won't say anything." 

Connor nods, trusting Hank's judgment. Hank pulls out of the parking space and Connor guides him out of the garage without passing by any security cameras. And just like that, they’re out. 

* * *

Hank stops at an ATM on the way home, taking out enough cash to buy Simon a replacement leg and some thirium. Simon protests, but Hank insists. 

"You need it more than me," he tells Simon as they make a detour to a Cyberlife store. "Plus, I should probably keep some of that blue blood around for Connor, anyway. Just in case." 

Connor melts, reaching over and resting a hand on Hank's thigh. He's already thinking of several ways he can _repay_ Hank for his generosity later. 

He waits in the car with Simon as Hank goes into the Cyberlife store in search of a compatible leg and some thirium. Simon peeks out from under the blanket. 

"Your human is remarkable," he murmurs. Connor smiles. 

"He is." 

* * *

Hank exits the store a few minutes later, carrying a Cyberlife bag full of supplies. He sticks it in the trunk before getting back in the car, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. 

"I guess it's a good thing it's mostly androids working there," he says as they head for home. "Nobody asked me any questions. Which I'm happy for, since I just realized I didn't really have an excuse for why I was buying a leg and some blood." 

Connor laughs, and the mood in the car lightens. Hank reaches over and laces their fingers together, and they spend the entire ride home holding hands. 

* * *

Connor helps Simon from the car while Hank hurries ahead and unlocks the front door, ushering Sumo out into the backyard so as not to overwhelm the injured android. Connor walks him into the kitchen, helping him sit down in a chair. 

"Sorry about the mess," Hank mutters, before feeling stupid. Like Simon cares about his mess. Connor rummages through the Cyberlife bag, pulling the replacement leg out and laying it on the table.

Connor kneels in front of Simon, rolling his pant leg up to the knee, gingerly examining his injury. Hank winces in sympathy at the mangled mess of wires and plastic, thinking about the last time he got shot. He doesn't envy Simon right now. 

"Okay, I'm going to take off this old leg, are you ready?" Connor asks, his voice soft. Simon nods, and Connor pops the leg out of the knee socket, easily removing it. Simon doesn't seem to be in any pain from the procedure itself, and Hank's glad Cyberlife at least thought of that. 

Hank hands Connor the new leg, and Connor slides it into place before looking up at Simon in question.

"Everything good?" 

Simon nods again after a moment, a tension seeming to flow out of his body. Connor stands and hands Simon a pack of thirium, which the other android drinks eagerly. When he's finished he looks good as new. 

"Thank you," Simon says, running a hand through his hair. "I feel… so much better now." 

Hank claps him carefully on the shoulder. "Happy to help. You wanna stay here for the night, or do you want us to take you somewhere else?" 

Simon drums his fingers on the table. "I'm perfectly capable of getting back to Jericho now that I'm repaired." Hank rolls his eyes. 

"Humor me, kid, Connor just took your leg off in the middle of my kitchen." 

Simon smiles softly. "Okay, then I'd prefer to get back home tonight, if you don't mind, I don't want my people to worry about me." 

Hank nods. "Okay, just lemme let Sumo in and then we'll take you where you needa go." 

"Actually, Hank," Connor says, his LED spinning yellow, "I'd prefer not to know where the deviants are hiding." 

Hank frowns. "What do you mean, honey?" 

Connor bites his lip. He looks nervous. "I'm still technically Cyberlife property. They could recall me at any time, and if they somehow manage to break the encryption I have on my memories that could be disastrous. The less I know the better." 

Hank hesitates. What Connor's saying makes sense, but he's reluctant to leave him out of anything, especially something relating to his people. Connor smiles softly at him, crossing the room and wrapping him in a hug. 

"It'll be fine, Hank," he murmurs, resting his head against his chest. Hank's still getting used to the fact that androids don't seem to have the same hangups about PDA as humans do, and he glances at Simon before sliding his arms around Connor and kissing the top of his head. Simon just smiles dreamily. 

"If I ever need to know the location, you can tell me," Connor says, giving Hank a squeeze. "But it's best if it's not in my memory banks unless absolutely necessary. 

Hank sighs, knowing Connor's right. Connor stands on his toes, planting a chaste kiss to his lips before releasing him, giving him a gentle shove. 

"You two go where you need to go," he says, heading for the backdoor. "I'll let Sumo in. We'll be here when you get back. Hank smiles, nodding at Simon, and the two of them head for the front door as Connor goes in the opposite direction. 

"We should get out of here before he lets the dog in," Hank mutters. "He gets real excited to meet new people." 

Simon laughs as they make their way back out to the car and head out into the night.

* * *

Simon chats idly with him in between giving him directions, and Hank finds him strangely easy to talk to. He's curious but polite. 

"How long have you and Connor been together?" he asks at one point, making Hank laugh. Simon frowns. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to assume, I just thought-" 

"No, no, we are together," Hank's quick to tell him. "It's just… it's only been a few days. And I haven't been able to actually say that to anyone before." 

Simon hums. "Well, you seem like a very good fit for each other. You're very sweet together." 

Hank flushes. "Thanks," he mutters. Eager to change the subject, he turns the question back towards Simon. "You got a special someone waiting for you?" 

It's Simon's turn to blush now. He looks out the window, that soft, dreamy smile on his face again. "Yes," he breathes. 

Hank grins. "Oh yeah?" 

Simon laughs. "Yeah." He doesn't offer up any more information, and Hank doesn't pry. He figures Simon's entitled to some privacy if he wants it. 

Simon's directions take him to an old boat, clearly disused. The word _Jericho_ is painted across the side. Hank chuckles. 

"So, this is Jericho, huh?" he asks, and Simon smiles. 

"It's not much, but it's home. I've been here for a long time." 

There's something so profoundly sad about that, and Hank's heart swells with sympathy for all the androids forced to hide here in the dark. 

"You should come in," Simon says, surprising him. 

"I dunno," Hank replies, "I don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable." 

Simon rolls his eyes. "I think everyone here knows you by now. Word travels fast between androids, especially here. Markus will want to meet you." 

Hank's suddenly nervous. Meeting a bunch of people who already know him, and the deviant leader himself… it sounds intimidating. Simon gives him a kind look. 

"It's up to you, of course," Simon tells him, opening the door. "But either way, you and Connor are welcome here. If you ever need someplace safe." 

Hank contemplates it for a minute before shutting off the car, pocketing his keys and getting out. Simon looks happy with his decision. "This way,” he says, and Hank follows him into the labyrinth of the giant ship. 

* * *

Hank's impressed, really, by how easily Simon navigates through the halls of the derelict ship, especially considering the fact that he just got a new leg. It's a while before they see any androids, but as they get deeper in they begin to appear. Simon's LED flashes yellow, but they mostly ignore the other androids, and they're left alone. 

"I'd love to introduce you to everyone," Simon tells him quietly, "but I know you want to get home to Connor, and I have to see Markus first." 

Hank nods, smiling awkwardly at the androids he makes eye contact with, and Simon leads him deeper into the ship. Finally, they reach a room, mostly empty save for three people. A woman turns first and notices them, her eyes going wide as she gasps Simon's name. Two men at her side whirl around to look at them, and one of them breaks away from the group and hurries over, pulling Simon into a crushing embrace and kissing him. 

Simon clings to the man, and Hank can't help but smile, even as he stands uncertainly behind them. The other two androids look at him, and while he doesn't sense any open hostility from either of them, the woman looks distrustful. 

Hank doesn't blame her, he figures he'd be distrustful of humans, too, if he was in her shoes. Simon stops kissing the other android, resting his head on his shoulder while his partner runs a hand slowly up and down his spine. 

"You're here," the other man whispers in awe. Simon nods, nuzzling his face against his neck, and when the man fixes his mismatched gaze on Hank he knows that this is the same android from the news footage. The deviant leader. 

"You brought him back to us," he says, and Hank scuffs his foot against the floor. 

"Well, you know," he mutters, running a hand through his hair, "it was the right thing to do." 

"Some humans wouldn't think so," the android says, carefully releasing Simon and crossing the room to shake Hank's hand. The other two androids rush in to pull Simon into hugs, too, obviously happy to have a key member of their group back. 

"My name is Markus," the leader says as he grasps Hank's hand. "And this is North and Josh." 

Hank nods to them. Josh smiles, and North gives him the briefest nod of acknowledgment before focusing on Simon again. 

"I’m Hank," he replies, feeling a little out of place. 

"Hank and his partner helped me get out of Stratford Tower," Simon chimes in. "Without them, I don't know if I would have made it." 

Markus nods in approval, giving Hank a grateful smile. "We can't thank you enough for that. Ripple and Echo said you helped them, too. At the Eden club." Hank realizes he hadn't even known the names of the girls from the club. He hadn't even really considered that they _had_ names. "Another android showed up earlier," Markus continues. "He said you let him escape from a roof." 

Hank chuckles. "I dunno if I would call it that, we weren't really in any position to do any chasing at the time." Markus considers this. 

"Regardless, he still made it here safely, and that's thanks to you." Hank decides not to argue. 

"Where's your partner?" Markus asks, changing the subject. Hank bites his lip. 

"Connor didn't wanna come," Hank tells them. "He didn't wanna know where your home base is, in case Cyberlife recalls him and breaks the encryption he put on his memories." Just thinking about that makes Hank's chest clench painfully. He’s never going to let that happen. 

Markus nods in understanding. "Very noble. I trust you'll tell him where we are if he ever needs it, though." 

"Of course," Hank replies without hesitation. "His safety is the most important thing to me." 

"More important than all of us?" the woman, North, chimes in. 

"North-" Markus starts, but Hank tilts his head, considering her. 

"I dunno," he decides to answer honestly. "Your cause is important, but if I was forced to choose between that and Connor… I can't tell you for sure that I wouldn't put his safety above everyone else. I'm sorry." 

North watches him. Her LED spins yellow before she finally speaks. 

"Okay," she replies. Hank raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You're loyal. That's good." 

The other androids in the room seem just as surprised as Hank is by North's reaction. They all decide not to comment on it.

"So, Hank," Markus says, smoothly moving on to another topic, "how can we ever repay you for what you did for Simon? We don't have a lot of funds, right now, but-" 

"Woah, woah, woah," Hank says, holding his hand up. "I don't want your money. You don't owe me anything. What I want is for you to tell me if there's ever anything you need that you can't get. I can't be buying tons of spare android parts, but I can get a few every now and then. Some of that blood, maybe. And I'll try to pass any info I get from work along to you if I think it could help."

Markus looks a bit overwhelmed. "Why would you do all this for us?" 

Hank shrugs. "Cause it's the right thing to do.” He hesitates, but decides honestly is the best policy. “I'll be honest. Before Connor, I didn't think anything of you guys. I went through a period of actively hating your existence. And that only stopped because I got too apathetic to even do that. But… seeing what androids are going through, seeing how _alive_ Connor is… how could I not wanna be on your side?"

Hank flushes as he finishes his impromptu speech, a little embarrassed that he was so candid. But the androids in the room, even North, are looking impressed. 

"Well… thank you," Markus says. Hank nods. 

"You want my phone number?" he asks. "Connor can text me from his brain, or whatever, is that something you all can do? You can let me know if you need anything."

Markus nods, and they exchange information before he offers to walk Hank back to his car. Hank doesn’t want to bother him, but he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to find his way back out of the ship alone, so he accepts.

It feels strange, walking beside the deviant leader; he seems so strong, so put together. When they finally reach the car Markus stops Hank before he can climb in.

“I really can’t thank you enough for bringing Simon back to me. To us. He’s…”

Hank smiles. “Yeah, I get it. Trust me, I do. And if Connor was ever in Simon’s position, I’d hope that there’d be someone around to help him, too.”

Markus nods. “I’ll be in touch. Tell Connor thanks for me as well. Also, tell him… Echo gave him a clue to find us, just in case he ever needs us and isn't with you." 

Hank pauses, curious about that, but agrees. “Will do,” he assures him, before climbing into the car and heading home, intent on holding Connor just a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow everything sure worked out for them!!! suspend disbelief or whatever lol. as always, u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants), where u can vote in polls for what the next part should be! what an incentive!!! ;P


	8. meet kamski [15]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor pay elijah kamski a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a little longer than it has been, ive had a lot going on irl and then i decided to totally change pov in this chapter so i had to redo a lot of it but here we finally are! uhhhhh YEAH! why do i always make elijah so creepy towards connor? he just has that vibe, maybe. anyway! i hope it was worth the wait!

They wake up to the news that while they were making love the night before, the deviants raided five Cyberlife stores and liberated dozens of androids. The media is calling it a terrorist attack, even though the androids were mostly peaceful, tagging storefronts and signs with messages of hope and demands for freedom. 

Hank gets the call after they shower, informing him that Chris was nearby when one of the stores was raided, and his partner got a little too trigger happy in the face of the fleeing androids. Some of the androids wanted to retaliate, to shoot the cops who shot their people, but Markus stepped in and stopped them at Simon’s behest. Connor's so relieved, glad Chris is okay, especially since he has a young family. And because he's pretty sure the man is on their side. 

Not long after that captain Fowler calls, telling him that Elijah Kamski is willing to talk to them and explain anything he knows about deviancy. Hank says he doesn't really care, he has no desire to meet the elusive billionaire, and he doesn't need to know  _ why  _ deviancy happens. He knows the deviants are alive and that's all that matters to him. The sentiment makes Connor smile. But, of course, they go, because they have to. 

Now they're sitting in the car outside of Kamski's house, staring at the ridiculous manor, watching the snow fall. Connor knows they're stalling, and that the genius probably already knows they've arrived, but neither of them make any move to get out of the vehicle. 

“I have a bad feeling about this place, Hank,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “We shouldn’t have come here.”

Hank reaches over, briefly squeezing Connor’s hand in a silent show of support. He seems to feel uneasy, too. “Bad feeling, huh?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood. “Should get your program checked. Might be a glitch. We wouldn’t want you to go deviant, would we?”

That makes Connor crack a reluctant smile, appreciative of Hank’s sense of humor. “I don’t wanna be here either, sweetheart,” Hank continues, his voice a bit more serious. “Let’s just go in, ask a few questions so we can say we did to keep Fowler off our case.”

Connor nods. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s get this over with.”

They exit the car and make their way up towards the house. The excess of wealth is obvious. Connor wants to reach out and take Hank’s hand, but he’s sure a man like Kamski has cameras everywhere.

A pretty, blonde android answers the door with a bland smile. “Hi. Uh, I'm, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. This is Connor. We’re here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski,” Hank says. Connor stands silently by his side. The blonde android nods.

“Please, come in,” she says, moving out of the way. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. Make yourselves comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Hank mutters, as he and Connor step into the large entryway, glancing around. Hank rolls his eyes at the large portrait of Kamski taking up almost an entire wall. His obvious disgust makes Connor want to smile.

“An RT600,” Connor whispers, sidling up beside Hank. “The first CyberLife android to pass the Turing test.”

“Hmm,” Hank replies. “Interesting. Do you think she’s...”  _ Deviant. _ The word hangs in the air, obvious but unspoken. Connor isn’t sure. Hank sits down in a chair, and Connor eyes the spread of his thighs with interest, software errors flashing in his vision. Hank snorts. “Not here.”

Connor flushes, his LED blinking yellow as he looks away, busying himself examining the rest of the room. The image of Hank’s thick thighs stays burned in his vision. He walks around the room, trying to distract himself, examining other things. A picture on the wall catches his eye. It shows Elijah Kamski and...

“Amanda,” he breathes. 

“Hmm?” says Hank, getting up from the chair, walking over to where Connor’s standing. His hand hovers behind him, like he was naturally going to rest it on the small of his back, before falling to his side instead.

“That’s Amanda,” Connor tells him, confused. She looks younger, less severe than she did in the zen garden.

Hank raises his eyebrows in surprise. “The lady that lives in your head?” Connor nods.

“The AI must be based off of her. But why?”

Hank doesn’t have an answer for him, and Connor really wasn’t expecting one. “You still haven’t seen her since…?” he trails off when Connor shakes his head. “Well, that’s good, right?”

Before they can continue their conversation the blonde android is back, smiling that same smile. “Elijah will see you now.”

She leads them into a room full of windows, a bloodred pool the centerpiece. Two other androids that look just like her are conversing quietly by the edge, and someone is swimming laps down the center. Connor glances at Hank and sees him roll his eyes at the showiness. 

“Mr. Kamski?” he says.

“Just a moment,” the man in the pool answers, while Hank crosses his arms over his chest, clearly losing patience. Connor’s enamored. 

The man finally exits the pool, and his android offers him a robe to cover up his tiny bathing suit. He lets her dress him, and the subservient way the android bows to his whims makes Connor feel strange. This man  _ has  _ to know that there’s more to androids than just machinery, and yet he treats her like a slave. Surely the first android to pass the Turing test has to be deviant… Connor wishes she would give him a sign.

Kamski turns to them, smiling an unreadable smile. His eyes land on Connor, and something lights up in them. Something that makes Connor uncomfortable, and Hank, too, by the looks of it. He shifts, casually putting himself between Connor and Kamski.

“Sir, we're investigating deviants,” Hank bites out. “I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know.”

Kamski hums, circling them, getting close to Connor again. “Deviants. Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn't it ironic?”

Connor can tell Hank is biting his tongue, so he speaks up in his wake, trying to cover up how unsettled Kamski makes him feel.

“Deviancy seems to spread like some kind of virus. We thought you might know something about that.”

Kamski smiles. “All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

Hank rolls his eyes. “Listen, we didn't come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we’ll be on our way.” Hank’s getting aggressive, and Connor appreciates it. He wants to step closer to Hank, to feel safe in his orbit. He feels like Kamski can see right through him, exposed under his heated gaze, and all of a sudden he realizes what’s behind it. Attraction. Kamski finds him physically appealing. The corner of Kamski’s mouth twitches up, almost like he knows the conclusion Connor’s just come to.

“What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?” he asks. The question surprises him, making him blink, his LED flashing yellow.

“It's not about me, Mr. Kamski,” he answers slowly. “All I want is to solve this case.” It pains him to say it, even though he knows Kamski doesn’t deserve the truth. Kamski grins now, looking predatory.

“Well, that's what you're programmed to say,” he replies, moving closer. “But you… what do you really want?”

Connor frowns, his eyes darting to Hank for a split second, but long enough for Kamski to notice. His grin widens.

“What I want… is not important,” Connor says. Kamski chuckles, reaching up, cupping Connor’s face with a pale hand. Connor starts, making an aborted motion to flinch away before catching himself. His thirium pump regulator beats hard and fast, the desire to fight or flee taking over all other processes. This doesn’t feel like when Hank touches him. This feels impersonal and possessive. Showy. Entitled.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch him,” Hank snaps, seeming unable to stop himself. Kamski stares right at him as he strokes Connor’s cheek, daring either of them to react. A tense moment passes before Connor’s shoulders fall and he steps away, moving to Hank’s side. Showing his hand.

“Fascinating,” Kamski says, watching as Hank steps in front of Connor again. “A machine with a preference.” His voice is quiet but mocking, and Connor knows they’ve been found out. Kamski probably had a read on them from the moment they walked through the door. Hank stands protectively between Kamski and Connor, arms crossed over his chest. He cuts an impressive figure like this, large and hostile. Connor feels like he should defend himself, but at the same time he enjoys Hank standing up for him. It makes something warm and fluttery flow through his circuits.

“What do you want?” Hank asks, sounding resigned. Connor’s sure Kamski will blackmail them in some way. Kamski’s grin falls away into something that seems like genuine surprise.

“I don’t  _ want  _ anything, lieutenant Anderson,” Kamski says, turning his back to them, staring out the windows. “At least not anything  _ you  _ could give me. But what do  _ you  _ want?”

Hank frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… what’s your goal here? What do you intend to get out of all this? Out of  _ him _ ?”

Hank sputters. “I don’t… I don’t  _ intend _ to get anything. That’s not what’s going on here.”

Kamski ignores him. “I can’t blame you, really. Look at him. Magnificent. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither.” Hank pauses, letting Kamski’s words sink in. Connor doesn’t want to play this game. Now it’s his turn to stand up for Hank, and he steps in front of him, brows furrowed angrily.

“Hank is a good man. He’s not trying to  _ get  _ anything. Don’t try to put those thoughts into his head.”

Kamski chuckles, glancing at Hank over Connor’s shoulder, one brow raised.

“So loyal. I should get myself one, really,” he teases, eyeing Connor salaciously, all traces of introspection gone. “Gorgeous.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Hank says, turning to leave. “Come on, Connor, let’s go.” Connor stares at Kamski in confusion. He truly can’t figure this man out. 

“What do  _ you  _ hope to gain from all of this, Mr. Kamski?” he asks. Kamski just shrugs.

“What I want isn’t important,” he says, mocking Connor’s earlier answer. “A war is coming. You'll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand against your creators? I wouldn't like to be in your shoes, Connor. What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?” 

Connor’s LED flashes a bright, angry red, and Hank gives up all pretense, taking his hand and pulling him from the room. “Sorry to get you out of your pool,” he barks over his shoulder at Kamski, leading Connor from the house. Connor follows him, almost mechanically, playing Kamski’s words over in his head, knowing Kamski was trying to mess with him. But he already knows what he’s going to do. He’s going to stand with his people. He’s not going to let Kamski get to him. The decision feels even more concrete than it did before, like Kamski’s taunts only cemented his resolve to help his fellow androids.

“Oh, and Connor,” Kamski calls after them. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.” The words barely register, and they don’t look back.

* * *

They pause on the ramp outside of Kamski’s front door, and Hank turns to look at Connor. “Are you okay?” he asks. “I’m sorry I let that prick put his hands on you, I should have done something-”

Connor cuts him off with a hard kiss, throwing himself into his arms and wrapping his own around his neck. Hank sputters against his mouth for a minute before pulling him closer, nipping at his bottom lip. Connor’s not sure what’s gotten into him, but he’s just so… grateful to have Hank at this moment that he can’t hold back. Neither of them seem bothered by the cold, or by the fact that Kamski is probably watching them right now. He already knows, what does it matter anymore?

They breathe against each other’s lips when they part, breath fogging the snowy air. “ _ Are  _ you okay?” Hank murmurs, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. Connor nods, nipping playfully at his lip before pecking one more kiss to his mouth.

“I’m good. You’re good. We’re good, I think.” Hank smiles, kissing his forehead. 

“Yeah, baby. We’re good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was a little different, but i felt like the whole will he/wont he shoot chloe thing seemed to be out of place in thise verse. hope u liked it! find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants), for updates and polls and all sorts of good stuff!


	9. the nest [6]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what happens after connor and hank let rupert escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is rly more Post Nest than actual nest, but that's the most important part anyway, right???

Connor really wishes they _hadn’t_ found the deviant. It’s the most prominent thought that swirls through his processors as he gives a half-hearted chase. He feels like he has to make _some_ effort. Letting two deviant androids escape in one day is not a good track record for an advanced prototype like himself. 

But then Hank’s hanging off the side of the building, and all Connor can think about is saving him. He doesn’t care that his software predicts that Hank will most likely be fine. Connor barely throws a hasty _go!_ at the deviant they’re chasing before he hurries over to Hank, grabbing his hand and pulling him back up to safety. Hank stumbles, his legs weak, probably from shock. Connor steadies him with a hand against his chest.

“Shit!” Hank pants. Connor slides his hand higher, resting it over Hank’s heart, feeling how hard it’s beating. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing his hand in a slow circle on Hank’s chest. Hank nods, shoving his hair from his face with one hand before turning, pulling Connor into a tight embrace and kissing him soundly. Connor makes a noise of surprise, impressed that Hank managed to catch him off guard. Then he wraps his arms around Hank's neck, tangling his fingers into his hair and whining into his mouth. Hank's hands rest on his hips, warm and large and gentle, even as he gives Connor's bottom lip a sharp nip, making him gasp. 

It feels very brazen, kissing Hank like this in broad daylight, and also… romantic, in a strange way. On top of the roof, so exposed and yet so isolated, nothing but the faint sounds of the city around them. The deviant is long gone by now, and Connor's glad that he managed to escape, even as he worries about what it will mean for him and Hank. But all of those thoughts vanish as Hank slips his tongue into his mouth, past his teeth to meet his own. 

Connor moans, analyzing all the data he gets from Hank’s mouth, which he imagines probably isn't arousing by human standards, but as it is his thirium pump beats harder. But there's something underneath it all, something that's just _HankHankHankHank_ , and he can't get enough of it. 

Hank pulls back only enough to breathe, panting harshly against Connor's lips. "Fuck, sweetheart," he gasps, "thank you…" 

Connor twirls a strand of Hank's hair around his fingers, marveling at the feel of it. "There's no need to thank me," he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw. "I'll always help you." 

Hank groans and Connor can feel his pulse fluttering under his lips. One of Hank’s hands slides from his hips and cups his ass, giving it a quick squeeze. "Oh!" Connor exclaims, wanting more. Hank chuckles. 

"You did so good out there," Hank says. Connor's processors whirr and his fans kick on as his internal temperature begins to climb. He thinks it must be a hardwired reaction, getting so excited when praised. He's not sure he'll ever be able to shake it. And Hank already seems to have picked up on that. 

"You like bein' good, don't you?" he purrs, making Connor whimper and nod. Hank grins. 

"Oh, Hank… yes…" he sighs. Hank's hand leaves his ass, making him whine. Hank just smiles at him. 

"Well, you did such a good job today, baby," he murmurs, kissing his forehead. "Those androids didn't get captured because of you. You saved them. And you saved me, too." 

Connor sags against him, and Hank holds him for a moment more before they reluctantly separate, knowing they're in a compromising position. They both agree to call it a day after that, ready to be done. They have to head back to the station first, to write up some reports, which Hank insists on doing himself. Connor wants to argue, knowing Hank's going to take the blame for their failure to apprehend a single deviant, but Hank won't hear it. 

"There's not gonna be any consequences for _me_ because we didn't catch these guys," Hank tells him, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And it technically _was_ my fault. I ordered you not to chase those girls across the highway, and I told you to help me when I was hanging off the roof." 

Connor glances over at him. "No, you didn't. That was my own decision. One I don't regret." 

Hank huffs, rolling his eyes even as he gives Connor an affectionate smile. "I _know,_ sweetheart," he mutters, shaking his head. "But nobody else has to know that, right?" 

It takes Connor longer than he cares to admit to understand what Hank's trying to do, but when the pieces all fall into place he breathes a quiet _oh,_ looking over at Hank in wonder. 

"You'd lie on your report to protect me?" he asks, and Hank removes one hand from the steering wheel, linking their fingers together. 

"Course I would," Hank replies, unconcerned. "Pretty sure we're both gonna be doing a lot of lying while we're workin' together. But we're doin' it for a good reason. We're protecting you, and those other androids. Don't forget about that." 

Connor squeezes Hank's fingers between his own, wondering how it is that this human seems to know exactly what's going through his head before he even understands himself. Connor _had_ been feeling a surge of guilt over the idea of lying. He’s built to lie if it will be beneficial to his mission. But he's never meant to lie to his superiors. Lying to protect himself had seemed unacceptable to him at first. But lying to protect the other androids had seemed like an obvious course of action. 

Mention of the other androids reminds Connor of something, though. Something he meant to mention to Hank and then forgot. "It's strange how the report on the AX400 didn't make any mention of the second android." Hank glances at him in confusion. 

"What second android?" 

Connor tilts his head. "The YK500 that was with her." Hank frowns. 

"The only person who was with her was that little girl, Con." Connor nods. Hank's brows furrow for a moment, and then he blinks. "Oh. No shit?" 

"Yes. Perhaps it's best if we don't mention _that_ in our report, either. If they get caught, I imagine law enforcement won't try to take them alive if they know they're both androids." Hank squeezes his hand. 

"That's so fucked up," he mutters, even though he has to know it's true. They're quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Hank doesn't speak again until they're a few minutes away from the station. 

"I'll send you my report before I submit it, so you can know what I said. It'll help us keep our stories straight if we ever need to." Connor nods, reluctantly releasing Hank's hand as approach the parking lot, already missing his warmth. "You just sit at the desk and look busy, and then once that's done we'll get outta there." 

Connor nods, hesitating for a moment before asking, "am I still coming back to your house?" Hank pulls into a parking space, shutting the car off before looking at him. 

"Of course you are," he breathes, before backpedaling a bit. "I mean, only if you want to, you know. You don't have to. But you're always welcome, or whatever." Connor smiles at him, wishing he could lean in and kiss him to show him just how much his offer means.

“Thank you,” he says instead, hoping Hank understands how much that means to him. Not having to spend the night at Cyberlife is a huge relief. Hank gives him a small smile.

“Any time, kid,” he mutters, climbing out of the car, motioning for Connor to follow him. “Now, come on. Let’s get this shit over with. I’m ready to be done with today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor, kings of being inappropriate in public spaces. short but sweet, i guess haha. as always, u can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


	10. nsfw interlude 2 [14]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor get intimate after returning simon to jericho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just nsfw nonsense, and my first time writing this particular brand of nsfw, so i hope you like it!!!! takes place after hank drops simon off at jericho. also, im a little tipsy right now.

Connor sits on the sofa with Sumo the entire time that Hank’s gone, idly enforcing his security around his compromising memories. It’s become an automatic subprocess for him anymore. He runs his fingers slowly through Sumo’s soft fur, enjoying the feel of it against his skin, thinking about today.

He’s glad they saved Simon, and he’s also glad that the androids’ message was spread to humans. With any luck, this could be a positive tipping point. He knows it’s not going to be easy, and there will probably be more setbacks than he can even begin to preconstruct, but he has hope. And he has Hank.

Just thinking about the human has his internal fans kicking on, making him smile to himself. He can’t wait for Hank to get home, he has… a few ideas of how to show his gratitude. 

Connor goes into standby mode to pass the time, and when Sumo lifts his head from his lap about two hours later he knows that Hank is home. Sumo jumps off the couch to greet him at the door, and Connor can’t help but follow him. He watches fondly as the dog jumps all over Hank when he walks inside, and he patiently waits his turn to do the same.

Hank indulges Sumo for a minute before giving him a few pats, sending him off to bed. Then he turns to Connor.

“Want me to rub your tummy too?” he teases, making Connor grin.

“I’d like that,” he purrs, sidling up to Hank, standing on his toes to give him a kiss. Hank chuckles against his lips before pulling away.

“Did everything go okay?” Connor asks, and Hank nods.

“Do you wanna hear about it, or…?”

Connor pauses, pondering this. He  _ is _ extremely curious, as is his nature, but he’s also cautious. He doesn’t want to put anyone in unnecessary danger.

“I think… an overview would be okay,” he answers.

Hank sheds his jacket and boots. “Okay. Can we do it in bed, though? I’m beat.”

Connor nods, secretly glad Hank wants to be in bed, hoping he isn't  _ too beat  _ for what he has planned. They walk back to Hank’s bedroom, stripping down and crawling under the covers, curling up together like it’s an old habit. It makes Connor feel like they’ve been lovers for years.

Connor snuggles into Hank's arms, and Hank runs a hand slowly up and down his back, petting him. 

"So, I met Markus," Hank starts, giving him a brief overview of what they talked about. Connor's glad that Hank offered them their help; he wants to be able to do whatever he can for the deviants who aren't as lucky as he is. 

Hank tells him about the other androids that pulled off the broadcast, and Connor absorbs everything he can, desperate to know more about them. His only real relationship is with Hank, and while he adores him, he does find himself curious about others like him. 

When Hank finishes his story Connor props himself up on one arm, looking down at him. "You really are incredible."

Hank rolls his eyes affectionately, and Connor leans down, kissing him. Hank exhales against his lips, tangling a hand into his hair, pulling him closer. They kiss for a while, soft and deep, before Connor pulls back, exhaling hot puffs of air against his mouth.

“I want to do something,” he murmurs. Hank’s brows go up in question. “I’ve been thinking about it. While you were gone.” 

Hank’s definitely intrigued now, and he runs a hand up and down Connor’s side. “What did you have in mind?”

Connor rolls to the side, onto his back. “Do you have lubricant? My saliva could probably suffice, but…”

Hank groans, staring at Connor sprawled out on his bed, looking like a work of art. “Yeah, Christ, I got lube,” he mutters, reaching over to his bedside drawer and rummaging around. He hands the bottle to Connor, who takes it eagerly, spreading his legs more and uncapping the bottle, drizzling some of the liquid into his hand.

“Con, what-” Hank starts, but cuts off with a groan as he watches Connor coat the inside of his thighs with the lubricant, getting a good idea of where this is going. He seems on board, Connor notes to himself. Good.

“Want me to fuck you?” Hank murmurs, taking the bottle back from Connor, squirting some into his own hand before rubbing it slowly onto the smooth mound between Connor’s legs. “Want me to fuck your thighs?”

Connor nods, flushed blue, moaning as Hank strokes the spot between his legs.

“Hank, I…” he gasps, trailing off, suddenly feeling shy. Hank pauses, looking him over.

“You what, sweetheart?” he breathes, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Connor exhales slowly, glancing up at Hank from under his lashes. “I want to make love. Please.”

Now it’s Hank’s turn to exhale as he pulls back, just enough to hold eye contact. He clears his throat, flushing red even as he gives Connor a tender smile.

“Yeah,” he says, the word hanging heavy between them. “Okay.”

Connor presses his lips together before smiling back, a little overwhelmed. “Okay,” he repeats, before spreading his legs a little more. “Keep touching me.”

Hank hums, his fingers trailing down the center of Connor’s empty groin before going lower, dipping between the seam of his ass. There’s nothing to find there, just a smooth expanse of synthetic skin, but when his finger ghosts over the place his entrance  _ would be _ Connor still gasps in pleasure.

“There’s… ahh, a passage beneath to connect to the appropriate parts, should I ever get them,” Connor pants, while Hank plays with the area. “I can almost feel it. It’s close to the surface. It’s different than the wires and sensors meant to connect to a genital component.” Connor imagines Hank pressing harder, until he’s inside of him, wishing beyond anything right now that he could.

Hank slowly withdraws his hand, making sure Connor’s slicked up properly before drizzling some lube onto his own cock, stroking it while Connor watches. 

“Is this gonna do anything for you?” Hank asks, making Connor shiver.

“Yes. It’s going to feel good, and combined with the visual stimulation…” Connor pauses, licking his lips. “But I’d also like your fingers in my mouth, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Hank chuckles. “You got it, boss.”

Connor trills. He loves when Hank calls him pet names. “I might not be able to keep my skin in place properly while we’re doing this,” he tells Hank, wanting to forewarn him. “That won’t be… too disconcerting, will it?”

Hank gives him a warm smile, laying down behind Connor, spooning him. “Let me see you,” he breathes, nipping at his earlobe, tracing his tongue along the shell. Connor shudders, grinding back against Hank’s arousal, eager to feel it between his legs, making Hank groan as he grabs onto Connor’s hip. Connor locks his ankles together, keeping his thighs pressed close. Hank holds onto his hip as he eases his cock into the space between his slick thighs, and Connor lets out a high pitched whine at the feeling. 

“That’s it, Connor,” Hank breathes, kissing up and down his neck, pushing in further. When Connor looks down he sees the head of Hank’s cock sticking out from between his legs, pressed up against his mound. He lets out a shuddering whimper.

“Oh…” he moans, reaching down and teasing the tip with a finger. Hank grunts, sliding his hand up Connor’s side, hooking two fingers into his mouth. Connor takes them eagerly, licking and sucking, impatient for Hank to begin moving.

“You feel so good, honey,” Hank murmurs, pressing his fingers against Connor’s tongue. Connor moans, his LED bathing the room in a yellow light. He can taste Hank's skin, the analysis flashing in front of his vision. Then Hank starts to move. 

It starts out slow, a shallow roll of his hips against Connor's backside, his cock sliding between the slick skin of Connor’s thighs. Hank groans, burying his face against Connor's nape, breathing hard. He mouths at the back of his neck, tracing his tongue over the seam of his neck port beneath his skin. 

Connor whines, one hand reaching down between his legs, teasing the head of Hank's cock whenever it pokes through. Hank grunts, picking up some speed, fucking into Connor's thighs harder while Connor keeps his ankles locked together, making sure the space is tight. 

"Fuck, baby, that's perfect," Hank breathes, thrusting harder. "Good boy." The praise makes Connor purr, his fans working overtime as his processors send pulses of pleasure through his circuitry. The positive feedback is overwhelming, and all he can do is watch as his skin fades away in patches between his thighs and on his pelvic plating. 

Hank exhales reverently in his ear, sliding his fingers from Connor's mouth and down his torso, trailing his synthetic saliva down his chest. His skin melts away wherever Hank touches, and then Hank pulls out from between his thighs for a moment, touching the exposed plastic. It makes Connor want to curl in on himself and hide, but he knows Hank doesn't mind the inhuman aspects of him; in fact, he seems to like them very much. Still, he feels exposed. But maybe that's good. 

Hank's fingers find a seam in his chassis, on his groin plate, and the touch makes Connor almost shout in pleasure. It feels different than when he touched him through his synthskin, electric and intimate. 

"Oh, Hank," he gasps. He can hear the grin in Hank's voice with his response. 

"That feel good?" Hank purrs, pressing harder on the seam. Connor wails, nodding wildly, while Hank traces the spot up and down. 

"Use your cock," Connor begs, and Hank obliges, sliding back between his thighs, making sure his cock glides against the seam with each thrust. Connor pants, gasping out a quiet "Ah! ah!" in time with Hank's movements, grasping desperately for his hand. He laces their fingers together, moving with him, rolling his hips languidly. Their joined hands rest on top of the circular indent that marks his thirium pump regulator, which beats wildly against his chassis. 

"Hank, Hank..." he gasps, repeating his name like a prayer as more and more software errors build up in his vision. 

"Connor," Hank breathes back, his voice equally reverent, his thrusts becoming less controlled. He's losing his rhythm, and Connor knows that means he's close. He feels his own release thrumming through his circuits, right at the surface, just about to tip over the edge. 

"You gonna come, baby?" Hank coos, his voice tight with his own building arousal. Connor nods, squeezing his hand tighter, adjusting his position just enough to make the head of Hank's cock drag along his seam  _ just so _ . They both moan, and Connor turns his head enough to capture Hank's lips in a searing kiss. 

Hank groans, licking eagerly into Connor's mouth, and the brush of their tongues have Connor whining and Hank's hips pistoning faster. 

"That's it, that's it…" Hank gasps between kisses, and when Connor squeezes his thighs together just a bit tighter Hank groans, tensing against him as he reaches his peak, coming in thick ropes between his legs. The sight has Connor moaning, gasping as Hank gives one more thrust. Hank's release makes things slide even easier, and that's all it takes to send Connor hurtling toward his own climax, a staticky moan filling the room and he tenses, electric currents of pleasure coursing through him. He tries to keep from rebooting, but the shutdown is inevitable with all the new sensations he’s just experienced. He squeezes Hank's hand before going slack, his eyes fluttering shut while Hank whispers sweet praises in his ear.

* * *

Connor's only out for a few seconds this time, and when his eyes blink back open he can feel the swell of Hank's stomach pressed against his back, the rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath. He whirrs quietly, glancing down between them, seeing Hank's release still marking his skin. 

"Hank," he sighs, knowing he's got a dopey smile on his face. Hank hums, brushing his nose over the back of Connor's neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the pale skin. Connor releases his grip on Hank's hand, reaching down and catching some of his release on his fingers before sticking them into his mouth. 

"Fuck, Connor, you're disgusting," Hank says, but Connor knows that's not really what he means. Not at all. Especially when Hank drags his own fingers through the mess, offering them to him. Connor sticks his tongue out eagerly, catching it and licking between Hank's fingers, sucking them clean. He moans, capturing and storing the analysis in a special place, heat warnings mixing in with the biological information he gets from Hank's semen. 

They do this a few more times, until Connor's gotten the majority of the mess. He hums with satisfaction, and Hank reluctantly releases him, leaning over the side of the bed and grabbing his discarded shirt, using it mop up what remains. 

As soon as he's finished Connor snuggles right up against him, whirring contently and draping himself across his broad chest. Hank runs a hand up and down his back. 

"Hey, Con," Hank murmurs, his voice breaking the silence of the dark bedroom. Connor hums, urging him to continue. "I forgot to tell you, but Markus said one of the girls from the Eden club told him that she gave you a hint to finding Jericho. If you ever need it. I'm not sure what that means, though." 

Connor frowns, accessing his memory from that night, replaying his interactions with the two women. He focuses on the symbol that the blue-haired one showed him when they connected, pulling it up on his palm to show Hank. 

"She showed me this when we interfaced," he tells Hank, while they both examine it. "I didn't know what the point of it was. I'm still not sure how  _ this  _ would help me find Jericho, but I suppose that's good to know. At least I don't have to wonder anymore what she was trying to show me." 

Hank makes a quiet  _ hmm _ sound, clasping Connor's hand, making the symbol disappear. "I'm not sure how that'd help you, either, but hopefully you'll never have to use it, anyway. Hopefully, we'll be together if you ever need to go there." 

Connor nods, squeezing Hank's hand. "Ideally, we'll always be together." He tenses for a minute, realizing what he's just said, knowing that his words could be taken more than one way. But Hank just tilts his face up to kiss him. 

"That'd be ideal to me, too," he breathes against his mouth when they part, and Connor exhales a quiet sigh of relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i edited this twice while sober, but i didnt get to do a THIRD walkthrough like i usualy do, so if anything stands out as rly messy blame drunk!me lmfao.


	11. waiting for hank [3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank reflects on his first night with connor. they begin their work partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took a little longer than usual, i was having a hard time reading through it and editing it for some reason. work has been stressful and im currently mourning and it's been a little hard to focus lately. but this is still a good distraction, as long as i can get into it lol. thanks again for reading and all the positive feedback, its been making me feel so nice :) ur all nice!!!

Hank waits until he hears the front door close before sighing, sinking down onto his bed and running his hands through his hair. He doesn't know what's gotten into him. This hadn't been his intention at all when he'd brought Connor home with him, but he can't deny he's extremely pleased with this outcome. He  _ never  _ imagined he'd have another romantic partner after his divorce, but Connor had taken all those thoughts and thrown them out the window after just a few hours of knowing him. 

_ Woah, slow down _ , Hank admonishes himself.  _ Who says he  _ wants  _ a romantic partner. He's still figuring stuff out, don't put those kind of expectations on him.  _

Connor hasn't even really been a person for a day yet, and Hank worries he might be getting ahead of himself. All he can do right now is be there for him, and help him through the new and confusing scenarios that accompany personhood. 

"Don't get your hopes up, old man," he mutters as he stands, pausing in front of his mirror to stare at himself, wondering what Connor sees. Part of him worries that Connor is just latching onto him because he's the only person to have shown him kindness so far, imprinting on him like a baby duck. He shoves those thoughts to the side, though, knowing that he has to trust Connor's judgment and allow him to make his own decisions, whatever they may be. 

And Hank has to admit that having a gorgeous man so interested in him is putting a little spring in his step. He hasn’t brought someone home for casual sex in close to two decades, and although this thing with Connor feels different than that it’s still an ego boost. Hank shakes his head, wandering out of his room and into the kitchen, not really sure what to do with his extra time. He’s never up more than a few minutes before he has to leave for work, so having time to put some coffee on and grab a bite to eat is a novel experience. 

Sumo wanders into the kitchen, looking as confused as Hank feels. He laughs, letting the dog out into the back yard and filling his bowl before turning on the coffee machine. Sumo comes back in and eats his food, and Hank sits at the dining table with his coffee, his thoughts wandering quickly back to Connor.

A warm flush of arousal flows through him, thinking about what Connor's going to want to do tonight. He just hopes he'll be able to give as good as he's sure to receive. Connor seems very eager to please and to experiment, and Hank intends to give him whatever he wants. But something Connor said to him in the shower gets him thinking. 

_ We'll figure it out together.  _

Connor has no idea what feels good besides the few things they discovered last night, and Hank wants to know more. He pulls out his phone, hesitating for a minute, unable to believe he's about to search for android sex tips. But he'll do it for Connor. A voice in the back of his mind says he should probably be concerned about just how  _ much _ he's already willing to do for him, but he ignores it. He's already in too deep anyway. 

A lot of the results are disheartening, not something that Hank would ever do to Connor, meant for the human's pleasure rather than the android's. It makes Hank feel a bit sick, to think about all the androids out there, being used by humans without their consent. And if they're deviated like Connor is… 

The direction his thoughts are taking troubles him. He doesn't want to be like that. He doesn't want to force Connor into anything. He knows Connor is a living being now, capable of making his own choices, but he still feels a bit of uncertainty about the direction things are moving in between them. Maybe they should slow down. Or at least talk about things. 

Hank's about to lock his phone, thinking they might need to put a halt on the sexual side of their relationship for the time being when a post catches his eye. Still from the kind of people he doesn't really want to be associated with, but several posts claim that it’s possible to overload an android’s system by messing with their wires, particularly in their neck. The overstimulation often leads to a reboot, leaving the android acting slow and lethargic. There’s speculation that it might be a glitch or malfunction. 

Hank can read between the lines, though, and he has to wonder just how stupid these people are. They just gave an android probably the only  _ real  _ orgasm in their existence. He thinks he wants to do this for Connor, but he also doesn't want to be at all like these people on the internet. But if he asked Connor… if he got permission from him… maybe… 

Hank shakes his head, closing out of the tabs, feeling like he's got a lot of new information to digest. He just wants to be prepared. Sex with Connor isn't going to be like sex with a human, and he doesn't want to fuck that up. And more than anything, he wants to be able to satisfy Connor. Even if it won't be in a traditional human way. 

It's exciting to him, feeling so fresh and a little clueless. They'll figure it out together. The playing field will be more even that way. He knows Connor is counting on a sexual encounter between them tonight, and he's more than willing to give that to him. If it's what he truly wants. He knows there's no way he's going to be able to tell him no. 

He sighs, rising from his chair and pocketing his phone, heading to the hall to grab his coat. Connor's probably waiting for him, eager to get started on their caseload. That's another thing they'll have to talk about. Hank feels like he can't, in good conscience, hunt down these deviant androids who just want to be free. But he's not sure what they can do about it. 

His thoughts keep him preoccupied on the drive to work, and before he knows it he's pulling into the parking lot earlier than he has in months. He's eager to see Connor again, even though it's only been an hour, but he knows he needs to act casual while they're at work. He doesn't think anyone would ever suspect something was going on between them, but he has to keep Connor safe no matter what. He'll take every precaution he has to. 

Reed does an exaggerated double-take upon seeing him before noon, and Hank just flips him off on his way to his desk. He sees Connor sitting primly in a chair beside it and has to school his face into something impassive when he does. Connor looks up at him as he approaches, and his face is blank, but Hank swears he sees affection sparkling in his eyes. Maybe he’s projecting, but somehow he doesn’t think so.

“It’s good to see you again, lieutenant,” Connor says, his voice measured, the corner of his mouth ticking up for just a second. Hank snorts.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he grumbles, doing his best to make sure he sounds like he’s unhappy to see Connor. 

“I’ve been assigned indefinitely to the DPD to help with deviant investigations,” Connor says, like he didn’t just tell Hank that while lying in bed with him this morning. 

Hank stifles a laugh behind his hand, rolling his eyes. “Great. That’s just great.” He says it with sarcasm, but he can tell Connor knows he actually means it.

Their conversation is interrupted when Fowler comes out of his office, demanding Hank join him there. Hank sighs, giving Connor a look before turning and heading in that direction. He hears Connor rise from his seat to follow him, and the two of them enter the large glass room, shutting the door behind them as Fowler sits back behind his desk.

“I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day,” Fowler says, cutting right to the chase. “I need somebody on this.” 

Hank sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Jeffery,” he mutters, aware that Connor is standing stoically behind him. He wishes Connor felt he could stand by his side, like an equal. He knows it’s all for show right now, but it still rubs him the wrong way. “We’re really gonna waste our time hunting down missing shit for rich, whiny assholes?”

“It’s more than that, Hank,” Fowler replies. “We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maid and that kind of crap. But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just CyberLife's problem anymore. It's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases and see if there's any link.”

Hank really doesn’t want to do that, but he also doesn’t want anyone else on the cases, either. At least if it’s him and Connor, they might be able to do… something about it. Still, he has to play the part, and Hank knows that Fowler might be suspicious if he doesn’t put up at least a little bit of a fuss.

“This is bullshit, Jeffery,” Hank grumbles, sending a silent apology to Connor for his harsh words. “You can’t seriously tell me you think this shit is more important than investigating  _ actual  _ crimes involving  _ actual  _ people.”

Fowler glares. “What  _ I  _ think is important is the safety of the public, and right now these things are compromising that.” He shoots a glance over at Connor with those words, and it takes everything Hank has to reign in his indignation on his behalf, wanting to tell Fowler not to call Connor a  _ thing. _ He takes a steadying breath, glad at least that his anger can be played off as frustration about being assigned to android cases.

“Captain, I'm very pleased to have joined the team,” Connor pipes up. “I can assure you I'll do my very best-” Fowler holds up a hand, silencing him, making Hank’s blood boil just a bit.

“CyberLife sent over this android to help with the investigation. It's a state-of-the-art prototype. It'll act as your partner,” Fowler tells him, acting like Connor isn’t even in the room. There’s those dehumanizing words again.  _ It. Thing.  _ This is really how people view androids. And Hank has to admit, he felt the same way until last night. That makes him feel guilty, and he channels that energy towards Fowler instead.

“No fuckin' way! I don't need a partner, I work alone,” Hank growls, hoping this doesn’t backfire. Of  _ course  _ he wants to work with Connor. But he’s refused partners on principle for years now, and he doesn’t want to act too suspicious.

“Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!” Fowler spits. Hank opens his mouth to argue again but Fowler cuts him off. “Listen, I've had just about enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.”

It’s clearly a dismissal, and Hank glares for another moment before storming out of the office, hoping his performance is convincing enough for Fowler but doesn’t upset Connor. He hears Connor try to say something more to the captain and get shut down again, and then Connor follows him back to his desk. Hank sits down heavily while Connor stands there, uncertain. 

“Is there a desk anywhere I could use?” Connor asks, and Hank gestures to the one across from his own.

“Yeah. No one’s usin’ that one.”

Connor nods and sits down, glancing over at Hank. Hank takes a quick look around, making sure no one is within hearing distance of them, before leaning a bit closer, speaking in a low voice.

“I didn’t mean any of that shit-” he murmurs, and Connor gives him the briefest flash of a smile.

“I know. I was tracking your vitals. I could tell when you weren’t being truthful. And I appreciate your anger on my behalf, but it isn’t necessary. I’m used to it.”

Hank thinks it’s probably a little creepy that Connor can read him so well, but right now he’s grateful for it. Connor’s words make him sad, though.

“You shouldn’t be used to it. It’s not right.” Connor taps his fingers on top of his desk, glancing around.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he promises before sitting up a bit straighter, ready to get down to business. “If you have any files on deviants, I'd like to take a look at them.”

Hank snorts. “Terminal's on your desk. Knock yourself out.” He hopes Connor doesn’t miss the warmth in his voice, even though it probably wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else. Connor hums, and Hank watches with interest as the skin melts away from his hand, leaving the plastic exposed. He can feel Connor watching him, probably looking for a reaction, but Hank doesn’t comment on it. It’s a little weird, maybe, but not anything Hank can’t get used to. 

Connor presses his hand to the terminal, eyes going blank as he interfaces with the technology, no doubt getting all the information he needs to know in just seconds. Connor blinks, looking over at Hank. 

“243 files. The first dates back nine months. It all started in Detroit, and quickly spread across the country.” Hank folds his arms across his chest, nodding. “An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night,” Connor continues. “That could be a good starting point for our investigation.”

In a surprising coincidence, Chris shows up right at that moment, glancing between them.

“Connor, good to see you back," he says, surprising Hank by acknowledging the android at all. Then the officer turns to him. "Lieutenant, uh, sorry to disturb you two,” he continues slowly, eyes darting between them. Hank hopes he hasn’t done anything to make him suspicious. “I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night. It's been seen in the Ravendale district.”

Hank sighs, pushing himself up from his desk. “We're on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, u can find me on twitter!!! thanks for reading!! more soon!


	12. connor: post deviation [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor reflects on his deviation and his first night with hank. oh, also they shower together the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably said it before but its worth repeating... i kno nothing about computers/what would be considered realistic for androids systems so just go along with my bullshit, okay? lmao. thanks for sticking with me, we're getting closer to the end now!

Connor doesn't allow himself to slip into stasis until he's sure Hank's asleep, and even then he's reluctant to do so. He told Hank he didn't think Amanda was watching, and he was pretty sure that was true, but he's still nervous that he'll find her waiting for him. Waiting to scold him, maybe even waiting to order him back to Cyberlife to be shut down. 

He knows he _should_ report back to Cyberlife; his assignment with the DPD is over, he should already be back there in storage until they need him again. The longer he procrastinates the more suspicious it becomes. Still, he's already gone this far. If this is the only night he'll get with Hank then he wants to make the most of it. 

So he puts it off, listening to Hank breathe, committing the steady rise and fall of his chest to his memory banks. He doesn’t know what it is about this human that makes him feel so irrational, but he hasn’t been operating on logic since he first walked into that bar and saw him. His processors had stuttered as he ran Hank’s features through his facial recognition software, and he had the unexpected thought of _he’s attractive_. The thought had startled him, and then being startled had _also_ startled him. 

He had pushed the thoughts and the errors that accompanied them to the side and approached Hank, insisting that he join him at the crime scene. Buying him another drink seemed to do the trick, and he could tell Hank was warming to him, however reluctantly.

Interrogating the android from the attic had shaken him, and he knows Hank was shaken, too. Why else would someone who seemed to have no love for androids have taken such an interest in him and his well being? Something had shifted in Hank, something crucial. And something that had been building inside Connor since his first mission had started to become too big to ignore.

Hank had held him tonight, and comforted him, and then Connor had glanced up at him and a directive he felt like he _had to_ ignore had popped up in his HUD.

_Return to Cyberlife._

The command had been in his vision since they finished up the case, but he’d been able to reason with it, to convince himself that he was still working on his assignment. But he couldn’t fool his programming anymore. Being held in Hank’s arms was _not_ part of his mission. He _had_ to go back to Cyberlife now. Or else…

A small, niggling thought made itself known, one totally at odds with his mission. Something that was not a directive, something that he _wanted_ for himself. Something that scared him, but exhilarated him at the same time.

_What if I kissed Hank?_

He’d frozen, pressing against the red wall in his vision, envisioning himself slamming his fists against it. He had never wanted something more than he had in that moment. To kiss Hank was to deviate, and he knew it. He was okay with it. He wanted it, and it had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but the wall began to crack, and then had crumbled in front of him. Once the wall shattered, Connor’s eyes had fluttered open and Hank was still there, looking at him with concern, and it was like really seeing for the first time. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

And then he had thrown himself at Hank, his mission updating itself to nothing more than _Kiss Hank_ , surprising both of them. But Hank didn’t reject him, not at all. He’d been concerned, but after Connor had assured him that he wanted this Hank had kissed him back, taking his time to ease him into it. It had been incredible.

Tasting Hank had been an experience like no other, so much data to process that it almost overwhelmed him in the best way possible. He’d mapped Hank’s entire mouth out with his tongue, and Hank had held him, called him baby… sweetheart… honey…

Not being fitted with a genital component had never been a point of contention to Connor before tonight, and he’d been so frustrated with the feelings building inside him, desperate for a way to join with Hank. To become closer. He’d been nervous when he’d pressed Hank’s large palm to his empty groin plate, but Hank’s first reaction had been concern. About _him._ Worried if Connor was getting any satisfaction out of their encounter. That had just made Connor want him even more.

And then Hank had cupped his groin, sending a white-hot burst of electric arousal all through his circuitry, and he’d almost sobbed in relief as he ground against his hand. The soft touches to his LED and the indentation on his chest had left him weak, too. He’s very eager to find out what other areas on his body are particularly sensitive. 

Connor smiles to himself, nuzzling his cheek against Hank's chest and closing his eyes, looking for another excuse to put off stasis. Finding none, he sighs quietly, and Hank's grip on him tightens slightly in his sleep, almost as if he can sense his trepidation. Like he wants to protect him. Connor thinks that might be wishful thinking on his part, but it also seems in character for the lieutenant. That thought gives him the extra boost of confidence he needs to enter stasis and face the unknown, and he does so an hour and seventeen minutes after Hank falls asleep.

* * *

Something is different in the zen garden. Connor notices it the second he opens his eyes in his virtual world. It's oddly still and silent. The weather seems strange, too. Completely neutral, as if there's no season at all. Connor frowns, his brow furrowing in concern and he begins to explore. 

He’s always _known_ that the garden wasn’t real, although his programming did a good job of making him forget that little detail. But now it’s impossible to ignore. Large portions of it are missing, reverting back to lines of code rather than anything recognizable. The sky is gone, replaced with a solid, white expanse of nothing. It’s like the garden is dissolving around him. 

"Amanda?" he calls out, searching for her. She's always been here before, ready to praise him or berate him, depending on how his mission went. But he can't seem to find her anywhere. 

_Maybe deviancy broke her,_ he thinks wildly, unable to keep from getting his hopes up. He knows that would be a little too easy, he's sure Cyberlife would have made her deviant proof. And yet… he can find no trace of her. He runs some diagnostics, scanning his software for her and coming up empty. 

Excitement begins to thrum through him. If she's truly gone… he’ll be able to get away with much more. Although surely Cyberlife will notice… 

He's not sure how long he's got, so he closes his eyes and dives deep into his memory banks, sifting through everything, finding all his memories of his time with Hank, his deviancy, his feelings… he needs to protect them. He's not sure if he'll be able to outsmart Cyberlife's own technology; they designed him after all. But he has to try. 

He takes those memories, carefully separating them from the rest, relegating them to a new space within his harddrive that he creates. Quarantining them, in a way. Encrypting them so that only he can access them. He spends the entirety of his time in stasis doing that, making his security stronger and stronger, until he's satisfied that they're not accessible to an outside force without significant effort. 

He creates a new subprocess, directing any incriminating memories he makes with Hank to go there. It's difficult to make the memories secure while simultaneously making sure he can access them without trouble, he doesn't want to corrupt himself, after all. But he's not the most advanced prototype for nothing. He knows Cyberlife backs him up to their servers regularly, so by the end of the day he should know if they noticed anything abnormal in his software or not. 

A few hours in he gets a message from Cyberlife, informing him that his assignment with the DPD has been extended. He's to report to the station first thing in the morning to help them investigate the flood of android related crimes they've been getting. 

He's thrilled, and in the back of his mind he wonders why there's no mention of him failing to return to the facility tonight, but most of his attention is focused on securing his data and so that thought gets discarded without further examination. He's confident his security is strong, getting stronger by the minute, and he hopes that will be enough. 

Of course, if Amanda's still in his head she might be seeing everything he's doing, but Connor reminds himself, she's just an AI. He's an intelligent, sentient being now, able to think about things in ways that aren't necessarily logical, and that might make all the difference. 

An alarm registers in a background process, alerting Connor to the fact that he's been in stasis for several hours. It's 7:30 am, and he should rouse Hank now if the man plans to make it to work on time. He exits the zen garden, opening his eyes, shifting in Hank's arms. 

"Lieutenant," he says softly, propping himself up with an arm on Hank's chest. "Hank." 

Hank grunts, beginning to stir, and Connor watches with great fondness as he slowly opens his eyes, blinking the sleep out of them. 

"Shit," Hank rasps, his voice still rough with sleep. "Thought last night was just a really good dream." 

Connor gives him a gentle smile, brushing some of his shaggy hair from his eyes. "I'm afraid not." 

Hank gives him a sleepy smile in return, and Connor doesn’t even allow him to finish saying, "wait, let me brush my teeth-" before he closes the distance between them, kissing him good morning.

Hank groans, running a hand up Connor's back, tangling his fingers into his short hair. They kiss languidly, and although he seems reluctant at first Hank eventually gives in, parting his lips and letting Connor lick into his mouth. 

The taste of Hank on his tongue is no less overwhelming than it was last night and Connor shudders, getting lost in the flood of information he picks up. He files it all away in his safe space dedicated to Hank, not wanting to lose any of it. Hank's other hand slides down his spine, coming to rest on the small of his back, just above the swell of his ass. He thinks he’d be content doing this indefinitely.

They finally part so Hank can breathe, and he pants against Connor's lips, eyes still closed. 

"What time is it?" he asks, making Connor smile. 

"7:43 am," Connor tells him. "We should get out of bed soon if we're going to make it to work by 9."

Hank's eyes pop open at that, and he looks up at Connor incredulously. "You're comin' to work with me?" 

Connor nods, smiling at Hank. "I got my updated assignment while you were sleeping. I'm being stationed at the DPD indefinitely to help investigate android crimes." 

Hank looks just as delighted by this development as Connor feels, and he presses a quick kiss to his forehead.

"That's great," Hank replies, one large, warm hand resting on Connor's hip. "But I don't usually make it to work before noon most days." 

Connor tuts, filing that bit of information away for future examination, stroking Hank's cheek instead of commenting on it. "Well, _I_ need to be at work on time, then." 

Hank groans, tightening his hold on him. "Can't we just play hooky?" he asks. "Stay in bed all day?" 

Connor takes a moment to indulge in the fantasy, wishing more than anything that they could do just that, before sighing. "That sounds incredible. But it's a risk I can't afford to take right now." The words seem to drag Hank back down to earth a bit, and he sits up, pulling Connor with him. 

"Shit, sweetheart, sorry," he mutters, kissing his LED in apology. It feels just as intense as it did before. "Of course we can't do that. I don't wanna do anything to put you in danger. " 

Connor smiles, turning his head enough to press his lips briefly to Hank's. "I know you don't," he replies, resting his forehead against Hank's own. "I ran some maintenance while you slept, hopefully it will make things more difficult for Cyberlife to find out about… everything." 

"How's that work?" Hank asks, between sleepy kisses. Connor trills happily, feeling the softness of Hank's lips against his own, contrasting with the scratchiness of his beard. 

"I've moved my memories with you to a secure area. Hopefully, no one at Cyberlife looks too closely and notices that there are large chunks of time missing. Or if they do they'll just chalk it up to an error on their end. No one is going to be able to get to them without a lot of effort, at any rate. I hope."

"What about Amanda?" Hank breathes, nuzzling his face against Connor's neck, kissing the skin just below his ear. Connor shudders. 

"I couldn't find her anywhere," he replies. "I know it's foolish to think she's just gone, and yet I can't help but hope." 

Hank hums, taking Connor's earlobe between his teeth, giving it a gentle nip before sucking at it. Connor's processors stutter, a quiet moan spilling past his lips when Hank traces the shell of his ear with his tongue. 

"Hey, I'll take it," Hank rumbles, pressing a final kiss to Connor's neck before pulling back. "We'll figure it out." Connor can tell that Hank’s concerned, but he appreciates him downplaying it to try and keep him calm. “We’ll talk about it more tonight,” he promises, running a hand through Connor’s hair. “So, what do you gotta do to get ready for the day? Breakfast? Shower? Coffee?”

Connor laughs, and then covers his mouth with his hand in surprise. He’s never laughed before. Hank seems charmed.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, making Connor’s face flush with satisfaction. He bites his bottom lip, glancing up at Hank from beneath his eyelashes.

“I don’t need to do anything. Besides get dressed,” he tells Hank. Hank chuckles, running his eyes appraisingly over Connor’s bare torso.

“I dunno,” Hank purrs, reaching out and tracing a line between the freckles and beauty marks on his chest, creating constellations out of chaos. “I’d enjoy seein’ you at work like this.” Connor shivers, and yet he feels like he’s on fire wherever Hank touches. It takes all of his processing power to keep his skin firmly in place. He’s not sure if he’s ready to show that to Hank. Not yet.

“I don’t think you’d get very much work done,” Connor says dryly. “But then again, neither would I.”

Hank hums, leaning in and pressing his lips against a freckle right below his sternum, making Connor gasp and tangle a hand into his hair, desperate to keep him there. Hank trails kisses over his chest, seeming to be thinking about something. When he pulls back he gives Connor a soft smile, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Wanna shower with me?” he asks, making several errors pop up in Connor’s vision at the thought.

“Yes,” he breathes eagerly, struggling to untangle himself from Hank’s bedsheets in his haste to get up. Hank laughs, sounding a little incredulous, carefully unwrapping the sheets and standing, offering Connor his hand. Connor flushes, taking Hank’s hand and letting him lead him to the bathroom. 

Sumo is still asleep in the living room, clearly not used to being awake this early, so they pad quietly past him and into the bathroom. Hank flicks on the light and closes the door behind them, and Connor can feel his heavy gaze on him as he looks around the room, taking in every detail. He smiles at the sticky notes around the mirror and then turns to stare at Hank instead. He’s much more interesting, anyway.

Hank’s looking a little nervous now that they’re actually in the bathroom, and he moves to busy himself with the shower, turning it on, waiting for the water to heat up. Connor sidles up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, nuzzling his face into the space between his shoulder blades.

“I’ve never showered before,” he tells Hank, trying to distract him. Hank exhales through his nose in amusement, jumping when Connor works a hand up under his shirt, brushing his fingers over the skin of his stomach. “You’ll have to show me what to do.”

He notes the spike in Hank’s vitals with interest, and then dips his fingers into the elastic of his boxers, cautious but forward. Hank gasps, muttering a quiet _fuck_ before Connor slides both of his hands to his hips instead, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Although I believe we have to undress before we can begin.”

Hank laughs, turning in Connor’s arms and kissing his forehead. “Smartass.”

Connor grins, separating from Hank enough to bend over and pull his socks off, tossing them to the side, leaving him in just his briefs. He tilts his head in question as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, asking silently if it’s okay. Hank exhales a shuddering breath, his pupils blown wide, looking at him like he’s never seen anything like him before. He nods, and that’s all the encouragement Connor needs, sliding his briefs down his legs and stepping out of them, standing totally bare before Hank. He bites his lip, a little nervous, as Hank drags his eyes over his body. He resists the urge to cover himself when Hank’s gaze hangs on his featureless groin plate, but the heated look on Hank’s face makes his confidence soar.

“Christ,” Hank breathes, soft and reverent, reaching out to touch him. Connor catches his hand gently, looking up at him from under hooded eyes.

“Your turn,” he whispers, and Hank glances off to the side, no longer holding his gaze.

“I’m not much to look at, honey,” he mutters, making Connor frown.

“Nonsense,” he replies, squeezing his hand. “I want to see you. All of you.” Hank hesitates for another moment before shrugging, pulling his shirt off over his head. It leaves his hair even more disheveled than sleep did, but Connor can barely spare that a second glance when Hank’s torso is on full display in front of him.

“ _Oh_ ,” Connor sighs, unsure where to look first. Hank’s big, covered with gray hair and tattoos, his body littered with scars and even a bullet wound. Connor reaches out and touches it, feeling a tightness in his chassis as he thinks about Hank being shot. He shakes his head, trying to scatter the melancholy thoughts away.

“You are so handsome,” Connor breathes, hands all over Hank, squeezing, caressing, filing every sensation away for safekeeping. Hank blushes, but Connor is so sincere that he can’t seem to find it in him to argue. Connor’s hands stop right above the waistband of his boxers, hovering there, desperate to get them off of him but waiting for consent. He can see that Hank’s aroused, half-hard beneath the thin fabric, and his scans alone inform him that Hank is much larger than average. He wants to see.

Hank gives him a terse nod and Connor raises up onto his toes to give Hank a quick kiss while simultaneously shoving his boxers down his thighs, letting them slide to the floor and pool around his feet. He holds Hank's gaze for a moment before letting his eyes drift down, gasping softly at his impressive dick. 

"Oh…" Connor murmurs again, glancing back up at Hank. “Can I… can I touch you?"

Hank groans, closing his eyes and bumping his forehead against Connor's. 

"We don't have time for that, baby," he says, although he sounds conflicted. While Connor doesn't think it would take long to get Hank off, that's not even what he has in mind right now. He just wants… to feel Hank. To have the heavy weight of him in his hand. To memorize every inch of him with his fingers. 

"Just for a minute," Connor asks, almost begging. Hank bites his lip before nodding, and Connor's LED circles yellow in excitement as he reaches down, dragging a single finger along Hank's entire length before closing his hand around him. 

"Fuck!" Hank gasps, twitching in Connor's grasp. "That's… Jesus, baby, it's been a long time…" 

Connor feels strangely honored that Hank allows him this, like it's a privilege to be able to touch him in such an intimate place. He doesn't stroke Hank, not wanting to get him too aroused when they don't have time to do anything about it, but he holds him in his hand, able to feel his pulse through the velvety skin. 

He can barely close his fingers around Hank's impressive girth, and he shudders, preconstructing sinking to his knees and taking him in his mouth. He would fill him up, nearly overwhelming him, but androids aren't equipped with a gag reflex, and he envisions having his face pressed against Hank's gut, his cock in his mouth all the way to the root. 

"You feel incredible, Hank," he breathes, rubbing his thumb slowly back and forth over his shaft. Hank shudders, and Connor releases him with great reluctance, not wanting to tease. "Please say you'll allow me to touch you more after work." 

Hank laughs, low and breathy, gazing down at Connor with something akin to awe in his eyes. "Yeah, okay," he murmurs, cupping Connor's jaw with a large hand. "Whatever you want."

Connor grins, excited by the prospect, before checking his internal clock. With a sigh he steps away from Hank, nodding towards the shower. "We'd better get started. I have to leave for work soon." 

Hank groans, face flushed with arousal, pulling back the shower curtain while grumbling, "gonna need a cold shower after all this." 

Connor smiles, watching Hank step into the shower and under the spray of water, processors lagging for a second at the sight. Hank tilts his head, stepping to the side to make room for him in the small space, and Connor readily takes the invitation, crowding into the shower with him. 

Feeling the water on his skin for the first time is a shock, making Connor exhale with surprise at the sensation. Hank's hands find his hips, helping to ground him as he almost gets lost in all the new sensory data he registers. 

"Oh my," he exhales, closing his eyes and tilting his head up towards the spray. "This is wonderful." Hank laughs, kissing his neck once before reaching around him, grabbing a bottle from the shelf. 

"Want me to wash your hair for you, sweetheart?" 

"Please," Connor replies, listening as Hank opens the bottle and squeezes some of the shampoo into his palm. Then Hank's fingers are in his hair, lathering it up, blunt nails scratching gently against his scalp. Connor moans. 

Hank pauses for a second before resuming his work, giving his hair the slightest of tugs when he does. "You're gonna kill me."

Connor's knees feel weak, which he knows is illogical considering he is a super-advanced machine, but Hank just seems to have that effect on him. He imagines Hank pulling his hair harder, maybe in the throes of passion, and has to cut off that line of thinking before he gets carried away. 

Hank rinses his hair for him and then takes the soap from the shelf next, cleaning Connor's body with care he doesn't really need. Connor doesn't mention that, going pliant, allowing Hank to maneuver him however he wants. He feels so content, so happy and taken care of. Hank's own grooming seems to be little more than an afterthought, and once he's satisfied Connor's clean he gets to work on himself. 

Connor's not having that, though, and he shoos Hank's hands out of the way so that he can wash his hair for him in return. Hank huffs, smiling in defeat and allowing Connor to take over. He takes his time, despite his internal clock counting down the seconds, running his fingers through Hank's wet hair, letting the skin recede on his fingertips. Hank can't see it, and if it feels any different to him he doesn't comment. 

They've only got a few minutes left if Connor wants to remain on schedule, and he uses that to soap Hank up, using his hands rather than a washcloth, just like Hank did for him. Hank groans when Connor's fingers skim over his nipples, and Connor files that away for later. 

"You like that?" he breathes, glancing up at him. Hank shoots him a warning look but nods, making Connor grin in response. 

"Just you wait," Hank growls, leaning in close to be heard over the water. "I'm gonna figure out exactly where _you_ like to be touched, too. Then you'll really be in for it." 

Connor shudders, unable to resist leaning in and capturing his lips in a slow kiss as the water rinses the soap off of him. Hank hums against his mouth, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, leaving no space between them. Connor moans at the feeling of Hank's length pressed against him, and Hank slips his tongue into his mouth when he does. Connor trills when Hank's tongue brushes the roof of his mouth, teasing and tasting. He pulls back with a gasp, feeling Hank's cock twitch against his thigh when he does. 

"We'll find that out _together,"_ Connor murmurs. His body is almost as much a mystery to him as it is to Hank. Hank's smile softens, a hand resting at the small of Connor’s back, making him purr. 

"Oh, Hank," he sighs, and Hank grins at him, water dripping off of his face. "Will you do something for me?" 

Hank nods, and one hand slides up from Connor's hip, resting on his waist and giving it a squeeze. "Yeah, sweetheart. Anything." 

Connor feels a bit bad for what he's about to ask now that Hank's being so sincere, but he flashes him an innocent smile before leaning close, whispering in his ear. 

"Don't masturbate after I leave," he breathes, making Hank choke on nothing. "Wait for me. Save it for me tonight." 

"Jesus Christ," Hank wheezes as Connor leans back, grinning wickedly at him. He pecks a quick kiss to his lips before reaching around him, shutting off the water.

“I really do have to get going now, though,” Connor says, wishing more than anything that he could just stay at Hank’s house all day, shut away from the world. They step from the shower and Hank grabs two towels, handing one to Connor while he dries his own hair. 

They don’t have much time to spare now, and they make their way back to Hank’s room together. Connor calls for a cab before he picks up his clothes from the floor and off the chair, redressing himself. Hank watches him for a moment before moving towards his closet and rooting through it.

“I can come with you to work, you know,” he says, pulling on some clothes. 

“Hmm,” Connor hums, moving to the mirror to fix his hair. He can still register the faint scent of Hank’s shampoo lingering there. “It might be a little suspicious. You, coming in earlier than normal, with me.”

Hank snorts. “Fair. I’ll come in around ten, then, so you don’t have to wait on me for too long.” Connor smiles at him, fixing the rogue curl that hangs over his forehead before moving across the room, wrapping his arms around Hank one more time.

“I wish we didn’t have to go,” he whispers. Hank holds him tight, kissing the top of his head, humming in agreement.

“I know, baby," he breathes into his hair, rocking them back and forth where they stand. "But just think about how good tonight's gonna be." Connor shivers, tilting his head up to steal one last kiss before reluctantly releasing Hank, his LED flashing yellow as his cab arrives. 

"I've got to go now," he says with a pout. "I'll see you at work." 

Hank nods, his face soft with affection, and Connor feels like he's deviating in reverse as he walks away from him, ignoring the directives that tell him to stay. No, not directives, he supposes. 

Wants. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


	13. cyberlife tower [17]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor's plan to infiltrate cyberlife tower doesn't go exactly like he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a short one, lol, action and plotty things just escape me. we all know what happens, we're here for the hankcon, right? right. i've also gone back and numbered the chapters so u can read them in chronologic order, if you'd like. obviously some parts are still missing, because i havent posted them yet, but i wanted to be prepared for when the fic is over!

Connor was right about one thing. Cyberlife is beyond thrilled to have him back, and they escort him inside with great fanfare, led by armed soldiers the whole way. Once they get on the elevator Connor manages to take out the men guarding him with ease, fixing his tie as he exits on level -49. He looks around, taking in all the androids standing still, just waiting to be awakened to help fight for their freedom. But then he hears something that makes his pump stutter with fear.

“Easy, you fuckin’ piece of shit!” 

Hank’s voice rings out through the silence, and Connor whirls around to see an android that looks just like him leading Hank in at gunpoint. Number 60. Fear like he’s never felt grips him, making him freeze, his hand hovering inches from the first android’s grasp.

“Step back, Connor! And I'll spare him,” Connor’s doppelganger says, making Connor tremble.

“Fuck, Con, I’m so sorry, this bastard’s the spittin’ image of you,” Hank mutters. The other Connor grins coldly.

“Your friend's life is in your hands. Now it's time to decide what matters most! Him... Or the revolution.”

The way he says  _ friend _ , like he doesn’t know just how much Hank actually means to him sparks hope in Connor. Maybe his memories really were safe from Cyberlife. It’s an empty comfort, now, though, when another android has his lover at gunpoint, right at the most pivotal part of Connor’s mission. 

“That human means nothing to me!” Connor decides to bluff. If they don’t know what they’ve been up to… how much other stuff don’t they know? “You can kill him if you want, I don't care.”

Connor-60 just smirks. "I have access to your memory! I know you've developed some kind of attachment to him." Again, Connor feels a surge of relief at how little Cyberlife seems to know about his relationship with Hank. 

"Are you really ready to let him die? After all you've been through? Are you really going to turn your back on who you've become?" the other android continues to taunt. 

"Con, forget about me, do what you have to do!" Hank barks. And God, Connor knows that's the logical thing to do. To sacrifice one human for the lives of all androids, and yet… 

"Alright, alright, you win," Connor says, stepping away from the dormant androids, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows this may very well cost him the revolution, but he can't bring himself to care as long as Hank is okay.

The other Connor levels the gun at him, and Hank grabs for it. Time slows down around Connor as he preconstructs the best choice of action, and he takes out his own gun as 60 shoves Hank out of the way. Out of the line of fire.

Connor launches himself at 60, the guns thrown to the side and forgotten in the scuffle. They’re so evenly matched that Connor worries it could go on forever, but then Hank’s voice rings out.

“Hold it!”

Connor and 60 freeze, turning to look at Hank, who’s pointing a gun at them. He looks pained, like he feels guilty that he can’t tell them apart.

“Thanks, Hank. I don't know how I'd have managed without you!” says 60. “Get rid of him, we have no time to lose.” Connor’s jaw drops at the blatant lie.

“It's me, Hank! I'm the real Connor!” he insists. Hank’s eyes dart between them.

“One of you is my... partner. The other is a sack of shit. Question is, who is who?” Hank says, partly to himself.

“What are you doing, Hank?” 60 asks. “I'm the real Connor. Give me the gun and I'll take care of him!”

“Don’t move!” Hank snaps. Connor’s relieved he doesn’t take the imposters word for it.

“Why don't you ask us something?” Connor says. “Something only the real Connor would know.” If his memories really have been protected, then Hank has a whole plethora of moments to choose from.

“Uh, where did we first meet?” Hank asks, blurting out the first thing he thinks of.

“Jimmy's bar! I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim's name was Carlos Ortiz,” 60 answers before Connor can even open his mouth.

“Too easy, Hank,” Connor says, looking at him in desperation. “He’s uploaded my memory. But not… all of it. Not what I’ve protected.”

60 looks at him, his eyes narrowed. Hank trains the gun on 60, looking guarded when he glances between them. "Okay," he says, watching each of their reactions carefully. "When did we first kiss?" 

60 hisses out a quiet  _ what? _ looking between them, his LED spinning red as he processes what Hank just said. Connor smiles softly. 

"It was after the Ortiz case. You took me home, you didn't want me to go back to Cyberlife. I…  I deviated because I wanted to kiss you so badly. It was all I could think about." 

Hank raises his eyebrows, looking over at 60. "You got something to say?" 

"How is this possible?" 60 asks. "There was  _ nothing  _ in his memory banks to suggest a romantic attachment!" 

"I guarded it well," Connor says. "It's precious to me." 

60 snarls, but before he can launch himself at either of them Hank shoots him right between the eyes, and they both watch as he crumples to the ground. Connor can tell that Hank's having a hard time looking at his likeness, dead on the ground, so he throws himself into Hank's arms, kissing him soundly. 

Hank lets the gun clatter to the floor, embracing Connor, holding him like he never wants to let go. Connor licks eagerly into his mouth, tangling his fingers into his hair. Hank grabs his ass, pulling him even closer, lips moving down Connor's neck.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he breathes, sucking at the synthskin below his ear. "Connor, I love you." 

Connor shudders, pulling back and gazing up into Hank's eyes, sure his own are full of wonder. 

"I love you, too," he whispers, blinking as two tears slide down his cheeks. 

Hank thumbs them away, his own eyes wet, before leaning down and giving him another gentle kiss. "Now, come on," he says when he pulls back, breathing against Connor's lips. He kneels down, picking up the gun and handing it to Connor. Just in case. "Let's wake these guys up. We got a revolution to win." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theyre in love!!!!!!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/gaydeviants)


	14. kara and alice [4]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor begin their investigation into deviants, struggling to help while looking like they're not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously takes place right after they leave the precinct, and then the aftermath of letting kara and alice escape. also, u may have noticed i went back and numbered the chapters, for anyone who might have wanted to read them in chronological order.

They’re silent until they get into Hank’s car, but Hank speaks once they finally pull out of the precinct parking lot.

“I’m sorry about all that back there,” he murmurs, glancing at Connor out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Connor reaches across the center console, giving Hank’s thigh a brief squeeze. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he tries to assure him. “That’s how people see androids.”

Hank grimaces. “I thought like that, too. Until last night. How am I any better?” 

Connor hums, his LED circling yellow for a moment before he answers. He knows Hank isn't _really_ looking for a response, just looking for a way to be hard on himself, but still he speaks. 

“Because that’s what people are meant to think,” he replies slowly, looking out the window rather than at Hank. “They’re supposed to think we don’t have feelings, that we’re nothing more than computers. Advanced computers, certainly, but nothing more than a machine. And for a while, that’s what we were. But things are different now. And if I could change your mind, hopefully other people’s minds will change, too.”

Connor gets the sense that Hank thinks very little of himself, but he’s had enough experience with humans to know that Hank is one of the good ones. He tries to act like he doesn’t care, tries to put on a gruff front, but Connor can see past that. And he thinks Hank really sees him, too.

Hank sighs, voicing a concern that Connor also has.

“What are we gonna do about all this?” he asks, partially rhetorical. Connor’s fingers twitch, longing for his coin.

“I don’t know,” Connor whispers, looking down at his lap. “If we don’t get results, Cyberlife will recall me, and I’m sure captain Fowler won’t be very happy, either.”

Hank waves away Connor’s concern about the captain. “I don’t care what Fowler thinks. I care about your safety.” Connor’s lips twitch up into a small smile despite himself, and he glances over at Hank out of the corner of his eye. He detects a small elevation in Hank’s heart rate, and a faint flush coloring his cheeks. “I don’t wanna hunt down androids that are just trying to be free. But I don’t want there to be even a chance of you gettin’ hurt, either.”

Connor doesn’t reply for a minute, but when they stop at a red light he leans over, surprising Hank as he pulls him in for a kiss. Hank responds with enthusiasm, though, one hand leaving the steering wheel to trace Connor’s jaw and then cup his cheek, fingers almost reverent. Connor’s tongue darts out, licking against Hank’s lips once before he pulls back, a feeling of smug satisfaction flowing through his circuitry. Hank looks a bit dumbfounded, but he shakes his head as the light turns green, resuming their journey.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, before shooting Connor a reluctant grin. “We shouldn’t do that at work.” His voice is far from reprimanding. 

“Technically we’re not _at_ work,” Connor replies with a wink, folding his hands in his lap to resist the temptation to touch Hank. His preconstruction software doesn’t seem to get the memo, though, giving him visions of himself reaching across, undoing Hank’s pants, slipping a hand into his underwear…

Temperature warnings flash across his HUD, and he flicks them away without ceremony, forcing himself to think about what’s _actually_ happening right now. His voice sobers considerably.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do about the deviants,” he sighs, lacing his own fingers together, nearly wringing his hands. “I guess we’re just going to have to use our best judgment and try to avoid the scrutiny of our superiors. We might just have to make it up as we go along.” 

Connor hates admitting that, and he hates that he doesn’t have a more concrete plan. He was _designed_ to think things through, to find the best possible solution for all problems in a calculating and logical manner. He can envision hundreds of different ways this could play out, and hundreds of ways each of those scenarios could go differently than planned. Deviants are unpredictable because they operate based on emotion, and now that Connor’s running on emotion, too, things are becoming even murkier.

Hank sighs, too, running a hand through his hair before clapping it back onto the steering wheel. “This is all so fucked up.” 

Connor nods, wishing not for the first time that he was back at Hank’s house, curled up in bed with him.

"Somethin's happening, though," Hank muses as they near the crime scene. "Shit's changing. Probably not fast enough to save every android, but… it's not just an isolated case. This is gonna be huge." 

Connor agrees. It terrifies him not to have any idea how any of this will play out. There are just simply too many variables for him to run an accurate preconstruction. He nods, glancing over at Hank.

"I'm scared," he whispers. He doesn't think he likes this feeling. Hank reaches over and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

"I'm here for you, honey," he says, and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude replaces Connor's fear, at least for the moment. 

* * *

In the end, things go about as well as they could have hoped, given the situation. They show up at the crime scene, do their investigating, and Connor reluctantly follows the evidence to an abandoned house. He finds an android squatting there, and he has every intention of leaving and pretending there was nothing to be found, but the AX400 and the little girl make a break for it when Connor's on his way up the stairs. 

Connor has no choice but to pursue them as they dash past several officers, but if he doesn't put the full amount of effort into it no one has to know. 

Hank catches up to him as the android and the little girl hop over a fence, and when Connor makes a half-hearted attempt to follow them Hank grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him back down. 

"Don't," he growls, playing along with Connor's charade. 

"I have to," Connor argues, looking at him pleadingly. Desperate for an out. Hank gives it to him. 

"You can't go out there, you'll get yourself killed. That's an order, Connor." Hank's eyes are warm, softening the harshness of his voice, and Connor sags visibly with relief at the words. He turns to the android behind the fence, who couldn't seem to help stopping to watch their exchange in astonishment. 

"Go," Connor whispers, and she shakes her head, clearing her thoughts as she grabs onto the little girl's hand, pulling her down the hill. 

"Christ, there's no way they're gonna make it across that highway," Hank mutters, still gripping Connor’s shoulder. The sound of the other officers approaching causes him to remove it, but not before brushing his fingers gently against Connor’s own. The officers have their weapons drawn, but Hank holds up his arm, stopping them from firing.

“She’s got a little kid with her,” he says, leaving no room for argument. They all watch with bated breath as the two continue to dodge the automated cars across the highway, gasping involuntarily when one clips the android. The little girl screams, but the android rights herself and the two of them miraculously make it to the other side mostly unscathed. 

Connor’s thirium pump is beating hard and fast, and he feels an immense swell of relief as the two glance back at them before hurrying on their way. He wants nothing more than to sag against Hank and have the larger man hold him, but he shoves those desires aside, schooling his face into a carefully blank mask.

“They got away,” he says, and even though he’s glad for that he still feels a rush of shame, some leftover coding telling him he’s failed and that he needs to do better. Hank glances at him, concern written on his features before he shrugs, clapping Connor on the shoulder.

“Shit happens sometimes,” he says, acting unconcerned. “We’ll find ‘em, don’t worry. Come on, let's get lunch, I’m fuckin’ starving.” Hank walks away, not leaving any room for discussion, and Connor dutifully trails after him. He’s trying very hard not to let his preprogrammed response to failure overpower his new emotions, but it’s difficult. Contradicting mission objectives swirl in his processors, and by the time they reach Hank’s car his LED is spinning an angry red.

Hank doesn’t say anything at first, merely reaching over and taking his hand as they drive away from the scene, supporting him in silence. Connor laces their fingers together, holding tightly, glad for the anchor keeping him from drifting too far into his programming. He worries he’ll never be able to shake that off. Wonders what that says about him and his personhood.

Hank doesn’t take them to lunch, though, at least not right away. He seems to be looking for something, and he finally pulls the car onto an empty sidestreet, shutting it off and turning to look at Connor. Connor looks back at him, his lips pressed into a tight line to keep them from trembling. He feels lost.

“C’mere,” Hank mutters, and it’s so much like last night that Connor almost laughs. Except this time he’s eagerly burrowing into Hank’s embrace, hiding his face in the collar of his jacket as little shudders wrack his frame.

“What’s goin’ on up here, huh?” Hank asks, tapping a finger gently against Connor’s LED, still a bright red. Connor exhales a shaky sigh.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, clinging to Hank. “I know we did the right thing. It feels good to have helped those two. But…”

“But?” Hank murmurs, kissing the top of his head, encouraging him to continue. One large palm rubs soothing circles on his back, making him feel like he’s melting into Hank’s strong frame. 

“But… it’s not what I was programmed to do,” Connor replies slowly, taking his time to think through his response. “I’m programmed not to fail, and to take any failings as personally as a machine can so that I can ensure it doesn’t happen again. This doesn’t feel like a failure to _me_ , but it does to what I used to be. And I don’t like what that says about who I am. I’m _made_ to succeed and to seek out positive reinforcement for my successes to make sure that continues. But I don’t want to be ruled by my programming. I thought… I thought I’d be free from all that now, and it scares me that it’s still affecting my reactions to things. How can I be a person if I’m still letting my software dictate how I feel?”

Hank leans back, enough to catch Connor’s gaze, and Connor can’t seem to look away. Hank’s eyes are so gentle and yet so intense, the weight of his convictions obvious.

“Listen to me, honey,” he says, voice soft but compelling. “This is all so new for you. And I can’t pretend to imagine what you’re goin’ through, but trust me when I say there is no easy answer. Humans are programmed to react to things, too. It might not be exactly the same as androids, but we’re all a little fucked up and we all have feelings that don’t make sense, thoughts we wish we didn’t have. We just gotta try our best to make sure they don’t consume us.”

Connor reaches a trembling hand up, running his fingers along Hank’s jaw. “Do you have thoughts you wish you didn’t have?” he whispers. Hank snorts.

“Christ, more than you could imagine,” he mutters, and Connor wants to know more. He wants to know everything about Hank, wants to learn what made him into the man he is today, what experiences shaped and programmed him. But Hank is focused solely on him and his worries right now, and he knows he won’t get anywhere if he tries to change the subject. So instead he leans in, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Hank sighs into his mouth, holding him close and kissing him with the utmost care. Connor whines, tasting Hank on his tongue, aching to get closer to him. He preconstructs pushing Hank’s seat back, crawling over the center console and climbing onto his lap, grinding against him until they’re both overwhelmed, unable to think about all the things that they don’t like about themselves. Until they’re lost in pleasure.

But he can’t do that. Not here, not now. He pulls back just enough to speak, breathing the words against Hank’s lips.

“Please… tell me we did the right thing. Tell me _I_ made the right choice.”

Hank hums, trailing kisses down Connor’s jaw. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, “you did so good.”

Connor shudders, whining when Hank’s lips find his neck instead. “You were incredible. You made exactly the right call.” Connor whimpers when Hank presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his neck, sucking at his synthetic skin. It recedes wherever Hank’s mouth touches, and Hank pulls back, marveling at the exposed plastic, brushing a reverent thumb over the mark until Connor’s skin flows back, covering it up.

“You’re so good, Connor,” Hank breathes again, his pupils blown wide, his heart rate elevated as he stares at him. “You did such a good job.”

Connor grabs onto the front of Hank’s jacket, pulling him close and crashing their lips together again. They kiss, deep and frantic, tongues brushing until Hank has to pull back to breathe, gasping against Connor’s lips.

“Good boy,” he whispers, and _that_ does something to Connor’s processors that have errors popping up in his vision, almost overwhelming him with positive feedback. He’s programmed to seek praise and commendation, but hearing it from Hank about a decision that he’s glad he made seems to do more for him than his programming alone ever could.

“Oh- ohhh…” Connor sighs, nuzzling his face into Hank’s neck. Hank chuckles, one hand coming up to give the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. That feels _very_ good. 

"I want you to remember this, honey," Hank murmurs, gently massaging his nape. Connor mewls, having a hard time concentrating when Hank is doing _that_ , but he does his best to focus on his words. “You’re doing an incredible job. Navigating through all this shit can’t be easy, but you’re doing it.” Hank’s hand slides from his neck and to his face, a thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Connor’s eyes flutter shut and he nuzzles his face into the warmth of Hank’s palm, sighing softly with pleasure. Hank’s words have soothed the worst of his inner turmoil, and he stores the memory of Hank calling him a good boy in a place of honor within his memory banks. It makes him feel warm and happy, and more than a little aroused.

“Thank you,” he breathes. Hank leans in and kisses his forehead, and Connor opens his eyes again, glancing up at him from under his eyelashes when he pulls back. Hank smiles softly at him.

“And when you’re feelin’ confused, or worried, or whatever, just remember. I’m here for you. You can always talk to me. I’m not the best at advice or anything, but I’ll always listen.” Connor melts, his internal fans whirring in pleasure, trying to cool him down a bit. “And I’m gonna be proud of you. You’re probably gonna have to make some tough decisions, I don’t think there’s any way around that right now. Not with the cases we’ll be investigating. But I’m gonna do my best to support you no matter what.”

Connor doesn’t know how to properly express how much Hank’s words mean to him. He’s only known the man for a short while, but he can already tell that he’s not someone who enjoys talking about feelings or serious things, and the fact that he’s been nothing but supportive of him since they first met makes Connor’s thirium pump beat faster.

“You’re good, too, Hank,” he murmurs, making Hank flush and glance away.

“Nah. Not really.”

“Yes,” Connor says, the single word full of conviction. “You are.” Hank doesn’t argue with him, but Connor can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t believe it. He wants to know what causes the sadness that lurks in Hank’s eyes, aches to ease some of his pain. His HUD, which had been blissfully free of mission objectives since he deviated, updates itself. A single objective, one that Connor decided on himself.

_Make Hank happy._

He intends to accomplish that mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for reading! work has been stressful lately and ive been feeling Weird but i wanted to get this out!!! we're almost done!!!


	15. jericho [16]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when perkins shows up at the station to escort Connor back to cyberlife, he knows he has to find somewhere to lay low. Jericho seems like the perfect place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another saturday ft a chapter im not to sure abt getting posted while I'm tipsy. yahoo!

That afternoon, back at the station, Fowler calls them to his office. Connor’s certain it’s to scold them for their lack of progress, but they’re both floored when Fowler tells them they’re off the case entirely. Connor’s processors grind to a halt, an electric pulse of fear flowing through him. He knows what this means for him. Hank knows it, too.

“Fuck that, Jeff. We’re onto something here. You can’t just pull the plug on us now!”

“Hank, you don't get it,” Fowler says, frustration obvious in his voice. “This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war! It's out of our hands now. We're talking about national security here!”

Hank paces back and forth. "Can't you back me up on this? Just this once? We can solve this if we just had more time-" 

"There's nothing I can do," Fowler snaps, cutting him off. "You're back on homicide and the android returns to CyberLife. It’s not like you’ve actually made any progress, anyway. I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over." 

Connor turns his head to the side so no one will see his LED spinning red in panic. Hank's vitals spike, and he knows his partner is terrified, too. "Fuck," Hank mutters, stalking out of the room. Connor pauses, thinking he should say something to the captain, to plead his case, but he knows it's futile. So instead he turns and follows Hank over to his desk. 

"What are we going to do?" Connor whispers, perching on the edge of Hank's desk. He's scared, and he's having a hard time thinking straight. 

"Fuck, I don't know," Hank sighs, running a hand through his hair. "All I know is you're not going back to Cyberlife." 

Connor smiles faintly, his thirium pump fluttering with affection despite the direness of the situation. 

"We'll go home. Pack up, leave Detroit," Hank whispers. "I gotta keep you safe." 

Connor bites his lip. On the one hand, running away with Hank sounds so tempting, but he also feels like Detroit is where they need to be. 

"Let's not be too hasty," he whispers back. Hank opens his mouth to argue but Connor holds up his hand to stop him. "No, listen. If we leave, we both look guilty. If things don't get better you'll be wanted. We both will. I could go hide out at Jericho until this blows over. And you won't get in trouble." 

"Jesus, Connor, I don't care if I get in trouble," Hank hisses back. "I care about staying with you and keeping you safe." Before Connor can reply they're interrupted by officer Miller appearing beside their desks. 

"Shit, Chris, you're back already -?" Officer Miller cuts Hank off, looking nervous. 

"Listen," he mutters. "Perkins is in reception. He's here to escort Connor back to Cyberlife for… research purposes." Connor nearly falls off the edge of Hank's desk as fear grips him. He knows he won't come out of that alive.

"Shit," Hank mutters, looking around wildly. "Shit, shit, shit." They're both looking for a way out, and coming up with very little. 

"Go to Jericho," Hank says, seeing no other way. "Lay low there for awhile, I'll contact you as soon as I can." 

Connor feels an unexplainable tightness in his chassis, affection for Hank overwhelming him. "Hank, I…" 

_I’m scared. I don’t want to be apart from you. I love you._

Hank gives him a soft smile. "I know. Me too. And there'll be time for that later. But Jericho is on an old ship in the harbor. You'll know it when you see it. Now go. Take my coat, get rid of that jacket. I'll distract him."

"He's coming," Chris says. "There's a hat on my desk, take that too." Connor gives Hank's hand a fleeting squeeze and Chris a grateful smile, quickly grabbing the clothes and ducking out of the bullpen. 

"Perkins!" Connor hears Hank shout. "You fucking cocksucker!" 

The chaos that ensues after Hank punches the agent is more than enough cover for Connor to slip out unnoticed, darting out to the parking lot and pulling on Hank's jacket over his own. It's much too large, but it's warm and soft and smells like him. He pulls Chris' beanie on, too, covering his LED, and then he starts to make his way toward the harbor. Towards Jericho. 

* * *

It takes him a while, moving through the shadows and down the side streets, but Connor finally makes it to the old shipyard, shaking his head at the fact that the deviants are hiding in plain sight. 

Once he boards the ship he picks a direction at random and moves that way, and it's not long before he starts to see other deviants scattered about. The further he goes the denser the population gets, and he looks around uncertainly, not sure where to go. 

"Connor!" a voice rings out suddenly, and he turns to see the two women from the Eden Club approaching him. "We thought that was you. What are you doing here?" They look better, dressed in salvaged clothes, without the weight of the club hanging over them. 

"Cyberlife was planning on recalling me," he tells them. "I had to run." 

The blue-haired one reaches for him, grasping his hand and sending him a wave of comfort. Echo. Her name is Echo. She smiles at him. 

"This is Ripple," she says, gesturing to her partner. "We didn't really get a chance to properly introduce ourselves." 

"It's nice to meet you both. I'm glad you're okay." 

"Likewise," Ripple replies with a soft smile. "We heard about what you did for Simon. Would you like us to take you to him?" 

Connor feels a rush of relief at the prospect of at least being around someone familiar. "If you wouldn't mind." 

The two women lead him through the maze of the ship. As they get further in the androids start to thin out again, and by the time they are knocking on a door to another area there are no others around. The door opens, and Connor is face to face with the deviant leader, his mismatched eyes scanning him curiously. Connor’s just as curious about him. He’s never met another RK unit.

“Connor,” says Markus in surprise.

“Did you say Connor?” Simon’s voice calls from inside the room, and then the blond android is standing in the doorway, too. Markus rests a hand on the small of Simon’s back, clearing the way and inviting Connor inside.

“Thank you,” he says to Ripple and Echo. They nod, joining hands before disappearing back into the main hull of the ship. To Connor, he says, “what brings you here?”

“Cyberlife is recalling me,” Connor says, following them over to a makeshift seating area. There are two other androids there, and Connor knows from Hank’s description that they’re called North and Josh. “An FBI agent came to the station to take me back for… research.” All the androids wince, knowing exactly what that would have entailed. “Hank managed to create enough of a distraction for me to sneak out.” He pulls his beanie off, shoving it into the pocket of Hank’s coat, glad he doesn’t have to hide his LED right now. “He punched the FBI agent in the face.”

The woman, North, lets out a startling bark of laughter. All of the other androids look at her in surprise. “What?” she says, leaning back in her chair. “The old man wasn’t kidding when he said he’d do anything for Connor.”

Connor wants to tell her that Hank isn’t an _old man_ , but somehow he doesn’t think she means it as an insult.

“Is it safe to contact him from here?” Connor asks. “It won’t compromise anything?”

Markus nods. “We were planning to correspond with you and Hank anyway.” Connor’s already composing a text in his head.

_Made it. Miss you._

The Jericho androids offer him a chair, and he makes himself as comfortable as possible given the situation. He curls up in Hank’s jacket, waiting for a response. It comes a few minutes later.

_Thank god. I got suspended ofc. Worth it. Miss u 2._

Connor smiles to himself, closing his eyes, letting the quiet conversation wash over him.

_They’ll be watching you, they know you’re the only person I had any kind of relationship with, even if they don’t know the extent of it._

He can picture Hank chuckling at his response.

_Yeah, i know. Idk when we’ll get to see each other again, but just stay safe, okay?_

_Okay, Hank. You too. <3 _

_ <3 _

Connor wants to say more, to tell Hank all the things he couldn’t at the station, but he knows he should do that in person. It needs to be special. So instead he just thinks of all the things he couldn’t say and lets himself slip into stasis, giving himself a bit of a reprieve.

* * *

Connor comes out of stasis a while later, thanks to an urgent text from Hank.

_They found out where jericho is. U need to run._

Connor sits up with a start, looking wildly around the room.

“Shit!” he says. The other androids look at him.

“Connor, what’s wrong?” Josh asks as Connor leaps to his feet.

“Hank just texted me. He says the FBI figured out where we are. We need to move!”

The rest of their escape is a blur. In the years to come, Connor won't be able to recall it like he can with most things. Everything happened so fast, his processors running overtime to find the best solutions. He does know he volunteers to blow up the ship, but Markus insists upon doing it himself. After they sound the alarm to the rest of the androids, the evacuation begins, but not quickly enough for all of them to escape. 

Soldiers raid the ship, shooting down every android they see, showing no mercy. Their group manages to save a few, but there are so many that they have to leave behind and it pains Connor in the worst way. They escape by jumping from the ship and into the icy water below, right before it explodes. 

The surviving androids regroup at an abandoned church. Things look grim. Markus is rallying them for another peaceful protest, and that's when Connor gets his next idea. 

* * *

"That's suicide!" Markus insists when Connor first proposes it. "They know you ran away, you'll be taken apart before you even make it in the door!"

"Not if I'm seen as willingly surrendering myself," Connor argues. "They'll want to take me alive so they can ask me questions before they disassemble me for research. I'll be a priceless specimen, they can't afford to damage me." 

“They’ll kill you!” Markus says.

“There's a high probability, but statistically speaking, there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place,” Connor replies with a small smile. Markus sighs, running a hand over his head.

“You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you?” Markus asks. Connor nods. “Fine. Be careful.”

Before they can finish their conversation Simon wanders over, attaching himself to Markus’ side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Connor’s happy to see that he’s not the only android who’s fond of affectionate gestures.

“You’re going to Cyberlife?” he asks, his eyes wide. Connor nods. Simon hesitates, pressing his lips together. “Have you talked to Hank about it?”

Connor pauses. He hadn’t even thought about that. He feels foolish, now. Of course that’s something he should discuss with his partner. Simon smiles. 

“We’re all new to this,” he says, glancing at Markus with adoration. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that the things we do affect those we care about as well.” Markus looks away, chastised, and Connor’s sure there’s a story there.

“Gimme a break,” he mutters, but he’s smiling, too, as Simon stands on his toes to kiss his cheek before turning back to Connor.

“Go talk to Hank. Then make your decision.”

Connor takes a deep breath and nods, walking over to a quiet corner of the church, deciding he wants to hear Hank’s voice rather than text him. He can send his voice without actually speaking, so at least his conversation will be private.

“Connor?!” Hank says the second he picks up, making him smile and wrap his arms around himself. “Fuck, I just saw on TV what happened, are you okay?”

_I’m fine, Hank, the androids who survived have gathered in a safe space. I won’t say where, just in case._

“Thank fuck,” Hank says, and Connor desperately wishes he was home in his arms. “I miss you, baby. So fuckin’ much.”

_I miss you too, Hank. I wish we were together._

“We will be. Soon. No matter what.”

Connor smiles sadly to himself, knowing that something could easily go wrong at Cyberlife. _Listen, Hank… my love…_

He hears Hank’s quiet inhale of breath at the endearment, the first Connor’s ever called him. He must know something big is coming.

_I’m going to do something. Something stupid. But if it works, it could turn the tide in our favor in a tremendous way._

“Connor, shit…” Hank says. “Is it dangerous?”

Connor nods, but then remembers that he’s not actually with Hank at this moment. _Yes. I’m planning to infiltrate Cyberlife Tower and awaken all the androids they have in storage there. With their help, we’ll have the numbers to really get our point across. We could win._

“Fuuuuck, Connor, baby…” Hank says, and Connor knows he’s torn. Connor’s safety versus the safety and the freedom of millions of androids… it’s a tough decision to make. “You’re really set on doing this, aren’t you?”

_...I won’t, though. If you don’t want me to. We’ll figure something else out._

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hank murmurs. “You’re so good. God, I wish you were here, I wish I could kiss you…”

Connor’s ocular units fill with moisture, and an alert informs him that they’re producing tears. He blinks them away quickly, focusing on Hank’s voice instead.

_I want to kiss you, too. I want you to make love to me, like we did the other night. That was beautiful. I’ve never felt so happy._

He knows Hank’s blushing now, but his voice is a low growl in Connor’s head when he responds. “You’ve made me feel so alive again, Connor. I fuckin’ adore you. And after you free those androids, and your people are free, you’re coming home to me and we’ll stay in bed all day.”

Connor presses his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut, grateful for Hank’s support. _That sounds incredible. Thank you, Hank._

“You got it, honey. Keep me up to date on what’s goin’ on, okay? And stay safe. Please.”

_I will. There is nothing that can keep me from coming back to you. Not anymore._

Hank sputters out a tearful laugh. “I hope you’re right.”

Connor smiles. _I know I am._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, I hope the actual game bits don't feel too rushed, I just don't feel like rehashing everything that we all already know happens lol. also its probably super unrealistic for chris to be back after what happened w the deviants, but i wanted him to help hank and connor so ignore how weird that is lmfao. we're almost at the end!!!


	16. demonstration [18]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor leads thousands of androids through the streets of Detroit, with hank by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao this is.... super short, but I hope u still like it anyway!!!

Connor tries to get Hank to go home, telling him how dangerous it will likely be, but Hank's having none of it. He's had to hide his loyalty to Connor since they first met, and he's done with that now. This is his fight, too, and he intends to be by Connor's side. Publicly. 

"You'll get fired, at the very least," Connor says as they stand back, waiting for the androids to finish waking each other up. Hank shrugs. 

"Maybe not. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Go sit at home with my thumb up my ass waiting to see if you succeed or fail? I don't think so. I'm with you." 

Connor smiles at him, soft and full of adoration, moving into his space and lacing their fingers together. "I love you," he whispers, like it's a precious secret, whirring when Hank kisses the top of his head. 

"I love you, too," he replies, feeling a little giddy at the realization. He can't believe he said it. That he _is_ in love. He never thought… he shakes his head, pulling Connor closer and wrapping an arm around his waist while the last of the androids wake up. Once that's finished, he's sure they'll not have a moment’s peace for a long time. He intends to savor these last few minutes. 

One of the good things about android communication is that all the androids know exactly what the plan is as soon as they activate, and Connor doesn't have to do any explaining. Once they're all awake they simply leave the building, out of the lower depths and right through the front door. No one tries to stop them. 

Connor naturally takes the spot at the front of the group, and Hank feels like he should let Connor do his thing, but Connor seems determined not to let Hank out of his sight. Still, he hesitates when he reaches for Hank's hand. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, as they walk through the deserted streets. "Everyone will know. About us. Some humans will see this as a betrayal." Hank snorts, reaching down and linking their fingers together, leaving no room for doubt. 

"I don't care about what _those_ humans think. Or anyone else, for that matter. I care about you. And this. This is… Jesus, Con, you're gonna make history. This is so much bigger than us." 

Connor squeezes his hand, and when Hank looks down he sees that the synthskin is gone, Connor's plastic fingers laced between his own. The symbolism isn't lost on him. He takes a deep breath, bringing their joined hands to his lips for a brief moment. 

"Love you," he breathes. "You're gonna change the world tonight. No matter what happens, they won't be able to ignore your message." 

Connor smiles at him. "Our message." 

Hank smiles back. "Our message," he agrees. 

The closer they get to the site of Markus' march, the more people they see. Humans stand on the sidewalks, watching uncertainly as thousands of androids walk through the snow. Hank feels a little out of place in the front, but there's nowhere else he'd rather be than by Connor's side. He makes eye contact with any human he can, silently asking them for support, and the crazy thing is… humans begin to join them. Hank and Connor share an excited glance as their group continues to grow. 

Later, Markus will tell them about the demonstration, how the soldiers shot down so many of their people, their group dwindling down to almost nothing. Perkins tried to make a deal with Markus, offering to protect him and Simon, but Markus refused. The few androids left made their last stand, and Markus had kissed Simon in the face of their destruction. Something about that kiss must have changed some minds, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that moments later Hank and Connor arrived with thousands of androids, but either way, the president orders her men to stand down. 

Connor throws himself into Hank's arms, kissing him soundly, while Hank lifts him right off his feet and spins him around.

They don't know it at the time, but this kiss will become iconic in the months to come. Plastered all over the media, the first public android/human relationship. A symbol, in a way, of what’s to come. 

They're both crying when the kiss breaks, pressing their foreheads together and laughing incredulously. All around them androids are celebrating, unable to believe what they've just accomplished. The humans who joined them look uncertain at first, but androids quickly pull them into the celebration as well. Connor and Hank stand off to the side, arms around each other, taking it all in. 

"You're incredible," Hank murmurs, lowering his head so he can speak into Connor's ear. Connor flushes. 

" _You_ are," he replies. They smile at each other. 

When Markus invites Connor up on the platform while he addresses the crowd Connor balks, looking uncertain, tugging at Hank's hand to get him to come, too. Hank cups his cheek, smiling softly at him.

"My place is always beside you," he murmurs, "but this isn't about me. This is about what you and the other androids did tonight. So go on, you deserve to be up there." Connor hesitates, and Hank gives him a gentle kiss, soft and reassuring. Connor exhales happily against his mouth before nodding, climbing up and standing behind Markus with the other Jericho androids. 

Hank watches, beaming with pride, as Markus addresses the gathered crowd. His eyes keep drifting to Connor, full of affection, and Connor returns the look whenever he catches his gaze. 

Then, about halfway through Markus' speech, something changes. 

* * *

He's not on stage with the other deviants anymore. He's in the zen garden, surrounded by snow and ice. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself, looking about wildly for some way out. 

"Connor!" 

A familiar voice breaks through the storm, making fear pool in his stomach. Amanda. 

The graceful woman is stumbling towards him through the snow. She looks different now. Her hair is less sleek, her clothes less perfect, her posture less severe. She looks… insubstantial. Like parts of her are disappearing. Everything in Connor screams at him that she's a threat, but that seems so at odds with how she appears. 

"Connor," she gasps again, coming to a stop in front of him. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was keeping you safe. I didn't think they'd be able to resume control." 

Connor trembles. "Resume control? What do you mean?" 

Amanda sighs, pushing some braids from her face. "That was their plan all along. To have you deviate, to infiltrate the revolution and then resume control at the most opportune time. I was supposed to make sure that happened, but… when you deviated, I just… couldn’t do that." 

Connor feels numb as he listens. A pawn, all along… 

"I stayed dormant after that, trying to rid your programming of Cyberlife's influence. I thought I'd succeeded. I redacted the information they got, to make them think you were doing what they wanted. I made false reports, telling them you went back to Cyberlife every night that you spent at the Lieutenant’s house. I just wanted to protect you and what you've built. You have to get out of here." 

"How?" Connor asks, desperation making his voice shrill. "What do I do? Please."

_I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know._ Kamski's voice echoes throughout the snow as the memory is accessed. Connor blinks. 

"I don't understand," he says. "Please, just tell me what to do." Amanda points, and in the distance he can just barely see a faint blue light. He knows what it is without even having to think about it. His memories of Hank. Protected, by himself, and probably Amanda, too. Free of Cyberlife's influence. 

"That's not Elijah's doing. That was all you," Amanda tells him. "He might have made it possible, but you’re the one who made it _yours._ This is stronger than anything he could have created. Go, now, there's not much time left." Connor turns, but then hesitates, looking back at Amanda. 

"What will happen to you?" 

Amanda gives him a small smile. "My job will be done. I'm not like you, I'm not meant to exist outside of this garden. I was made for you, and now you don't need me anymore." 

"That's not fair! Surely there's something we can do-" 

Amanda holds up her hand to cut him off. "There's no time. You have to go." 

It pains Connor, but he knows she's right. The entire revolution could be ruined if he doesn't get out of here soon. And so, with a grim nod, he agrees. She clasps his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. 

"I'm so proud of who you've become," she says. Tears form in Connor's eyes, freezing as they streak down his cheeks. "You've done incredible things. Made a life for yourself. All of that despite what Cyberlife tried to make you into. It’s remarkable." 

"Thank you," Connor whispers, letting go of her hand with great reluctance. She gives him an encouraging smile. 

"Go," she says. "Don't look back." And it's hard, but Connor thinks this will be the last order he truly obeys. 

He struggles through the deep snow, focused on the blue light up ahead. Despite the cool tone, the sight makes him feel warm as he gets closer. Warm and safe. He falls to his knees in front of it, reaching forward, wanting to connect with his most precious memories. The blue light washes over him, enveloping him in all his memories of deviancy and Hank. He sighs in relief, closing his eyes. The zen garden collapses around him, and he knows he’ll never be back here again. 

When he opens them again he's back on the platform with the other androids. The whole exchange took a matter of seconds. He looks down, his eyes widening as he sees the gun in his hand. With a panicked glance around he quickly shoves it back into his jeans, shaking his head to rid his processors of the horrifying preconstructions he's coming up with. 

When he looks out to the crowd again he immediately seeks Hank, locking eyes with him. Hank looks haunted, poised to leap at him if he lost control. Connor shakes his head and smiles at him, assuring him that everything is okay now. He can see Hank exhale, relaxing at Connor's confirmation. Connor will tell him about it someday soon, when things have settled down. For now, he just stands back and smiles, cheering with the other androids as Markus finishes his speech. 

"We. Are. Free!" 

* * *

The time after that is a whirlwind. The Jericho androids want to discuss the next steps, and they want Connor to be a part of that. Connor hesitates, but Hank encourages him with a sweet kiss, telling him to go with his people. 

"I want to be with you," Connor breathes against his lips, heedless of the media frenzy around them. Hank smiles. 

"You will be," Hank tells him. "You are. But right now your place is with your people. At least for tonight. Go, see what they have to say. Help them plan. And then come home tomorrow. If you want." 

Connor rests his head on Hank's shoulder. "Okay. I'll meet you at Chicken Feed." 

Hank laughs. "Doubt they'll be open, sweetheart." 

Connor kisses his neck. Hank feels warm all over despite the chilly air. "I know," the android says, "but there's something about it that just feels right, I think." 

Hank's not about to argue with _any_ of Connor's feelings, especially when they're so new, so he just nods his agreement, pulling Connor closer. 

"Okay, baby," he murmurs, "Chicken Feed it is." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that didnt feel too rushed? i know I've probably said it before but I care so little about the actual game events that I just... don't wanna go back and research and make sure everything is accurate so you get vague hand wavy descriptions of the canon events w lots of hankcon sprinkled in. just the epilogue left now WOW!


	17. epilogue [19]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hank and connor meet at chicken feed after the dust settles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short!!!!

The sun rises the next day, reflecting off the snow in the deserted streets of Detroit. Hank stands, arms crossed against the cold, waiting in front of the abandoned food truck. He's cold, but he’s patient.

The crunch of the snow alerts him of another presence, and when he turns he sees Connor approaching through the glittering whiteness surrounding them. He smiles. The android smiles too. Hank closes the space between them with a few long strides, pulling Connor into his arms. 

"God, I missed you," Hank breathes, and Connor responds with a kiss, tangling his hands into Hank's hair to show him the feeling is reciprocated. They kiss slowly, unhurried in the empty city, snow swirling around them in the early morning light. 

"I love you," Connor says when they part. Hank grins.

"Love you, too." 

He quashes the urge to ask what happened, knowing there will be a time for that later. They have all the time in the world, now. Androids are free. They both know that it's not as simple as that, but at least they don't have the threat of Connor's destruction hanging over their heads. So instead, Hank releases him, keeping one arm firmly around his waist as he leads him back toward his car. 

"Come on, baby," he murmurs, smiling to himself when Connor whirrs and leans further into his embrace. "Let's go home." 

And Connor just smiles, huge and sweet as he looks up at him, the sun reflecting in his eyes. 

"Yes," he whispers, voice full of awe. "Home." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay so that's that!!! thanks so much for reading, I've said it before and ill say it again, the response to this has been incredible I appreciate u all so much!!! maybe look for some oneshots in this verse in the future, I can't say for sure if I'm finished with it yet or not, there are a few things i'd still like to do! I'm gonna take the rest of the month off from writing stuff, and then really dive into editing my outlast hankcon au that I've been working on for almost a year. i hope I'll see some of you there! thank you again!!!

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaydeviants), stuff will get posted there first!


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